Dear journal,
I wish I could tell you that something cheesy or cliché happened. Because who doesn't love clichés? And what cheesy thing is not romantic?
Thing is...I can't...I can't tell you that because it didn't happen.
I guess I'd expected a person to pick up, sounding hopeful...and Id half hoped it would be a girl-which it had been.
But she sounded so haunted. Like a little girl who had been through too much for her age. And maybe she had.
I would know how she feels.
I couldn't tell her age by her voice-which Im usually capable of doing-though she seemed seventeen or so.
Hello? She'd said blankly.
I breathed in deeply.
Uh...hi...I...Im calling because, I found your bird...well, not really but I saw it. I mean I caught it and all, and I found this number from a note tied to it, but then you see, it sort of flew awa-
Who's this? Her voice was a bit urgent. It had raised my hopes, had made me feel as though I could help her, even though I knew I couldn't.
Um...uh, my name's Jack, but anyway that doesn't matter becau-
I want my bird. She commanded me. She spoke as though she were a child. And Im certain she wasn't.
Look, I've already told you. I don't have your bird. It...it flew away.
And she cut the call.
