I remember our first clandestine meeting. Our forbidden love bloomed under the unabashed red and yellow gulmohar. You thought I was coy, but who can look the sun in the face? Up in the branches were two doe-eyed mynahs.
“One for sorrow, two for joy, three for letter…” We girls used to sing when we were little.
Three peck at the dirt outside the house today. Maybe I’ll hear from you from wherever you’ve been deployed. Your side of the bed has been cold for too long.
It’s a telegram. My skin tingles in anticipation.
Wings flutter. Two fly away.
This 100-word story is in response to Donna-Louise Bishop’s Prompt Pot. This week’s prompt was ‘Birds’.