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

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

The pigeon'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's a boy. Its coo brewing a snore

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't be..."

"I'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

You can follow @PatchieSteve.
Tip: mention @twtextapp on a Twitter thread with the keyword “unroll” to get a link to it.

Latest Threads Unrolled: