digital pen, digital paper.

Cannibalism is for the birds.

Today, there was a noise from the roof. I stepped outside because curiousity and personality flaws demanded I recognize and categorize the commotion. A small brown bird streaked overhead and disappeared behind a tree. I thought I may have recognized the bird. I had seen one many times buried in a nest above the balcony. A larger black bird, in close pursuit, sounded a battle cry and also dove behind the tree. He emerged only a single moment later, prize-in-beak, and flew back to perch on the roof. I could see only half of his sleek black exterior, partially hidden by shingled ridge. His head plunged down and popped back. With each snap of his neck, a new shred of meat appeared, then quickly disappeared in feast.

I ran to the balcony and gazed upon the empty nest in a moment of silent contemplation.