Bird songs and conquering thoughts

Abstract

Open it. No. Not yet. Dominic frowned at the sealed crimson letter on his desk. A small bird pecked at it incessantly, as if it held seeds within. House sparrow, he thought. Birds like those belonged among flocks of pigeons, picking out bits from the concrete. Instead it was here on a chilly January morning. His small apartment was not a place for any animal. It was too cramped for anything living except for him. The bathroom and the kitchen counter faced each other, a wooden door leading to the outside wedged between them. A subtle odour of mould seeped through the flaxencoloured walls. The only natural light came from a book-sized window over his desk, which faced the outside door. The light bleached the floorboards, and now a small window-shaped patch of bleached wood occupied the centre of the room. [excerpt]