The wind howls through the entry of the alcove. Paprika adjusted her cloak. She caught a glimpse of a small bird, its feathers ruffled & looked scared. The bird chirped weakly, as it took shelter from the storm in the alcove.
Paprika’s heart ached at the sight. She thought of her mother’s music and the way those melodies used to make everything feel warmer, safer. With a gentle sigh, she reached for the old guitar she had found and began to strum, her fingers moving softly over the strings.
The notes of the guitar filled the air, adding warmth to the chilly air. Paprika’s thoughts drifted, her mother’s song playing clearly in her head. The bird stopped trembling.
It began to chirp, almost as if it was trying to sing along. For a moment, Paprika and her little companion shared the melody, letting the storm fade from their thoughts.