The robin arrived the same way it always did: without sound, without warning.
It perched among the red berries like it had been waiting there long before the building existed. People passed beneath it, phones glowing, heads down, unaware that something old and watchful had settled above them.
The bird looked at me—not frightened, not curious. Just knowing.
As if it remembered me from another winter, another life.
When it flew away, the air felt heavier.
And I understood, suddenly, that some messengers don’t bring answers—only reminders that the world is still alive, even when we forget to be.
No comments:
Post a Comment