On a #settle of branch the woodpigeon rests, fat with sun. A head-tucked up ball of stormy grey, looking down through a blow of curtain to a yawn of boy, a scratching mess of hair staggering a sleepy left, waking right into a scruff of pigeon suit, a stretch of smile

#vss365

The boy sank beneath the #thunder of a passing lorry. But the bounce of his head soon surfaced over a neat trim of box and yew hedges, chirruping his way down the street. The pigeon watched the kid climb up on a garden wall, leap with a flap of feathered arms... and fall

#vss365

The pigeon& #39;s gaze flaps at the loose curtain, spies the cover drawn back of a warm bed. With a spring of spiral-down #rings, it flutters through window and nestles between the sheets. The bird rests its head on the pillow, and imagines it& #39;s a boy. Its coo brewing a snore

#vss365

The pigeon was #drawn from its sleep by voices...

"...he wanted it so much... maybe..."

"Yes, but no matter how hard you wish! It can& #39;t be..."

"I& #39;m telling you, this is Eliot. This is our boy!"

The bird opened an eye. A man and a woman were bent over, gazing at him

#vss365