HE CAME EVERY DAY TO FEED THE SAME BIRD—UNTIL ONE DAY, THE BIRD BROUGHT SOMETHING BACK
I saw him every morning for nearly a year—same bench, same brown paper bag, same quiet whistle. And always, the same little sparrow. It would land on his knee like it belonged there. The world moved around them, but they sat in a stillness all their own. He fed it bits of bread, murmuring in … Read more