matthewblake92
The bird was black, like the rest of the birds in the damned city. It was an inherent, bleeding effect, from the dark tar lining the edges of the rundown motel windows to the smoke that rolled like molasses from sewer covers to the color of the blood that stained the sidewalks as if some grim scars. What came first, the birds or the city? I'd like to imagine the crows used to be doves, forever changed by some cruel osmosis.