Crow was still staying in my house; however, she was much better.
After dinner, three of us gathered at the table in my front yard. Robert and crow were playing a ball and I was sitting in a chair and typing.
When they were tired, they came to the table. As Robert saw me typing, he asked, “What are you writing?”
“I am writing fiction.”
“Oh,” he unlocked his eyes, “what’s it about?”
“It’s a romance between a bird and a fish.”
“Do you take inspiration from my romance?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I planned this story a few years ago. I had the story's plot and frame already. I just kept it. After I heard your love story, I remembered this story; so I took it out and decided to write it.”
“Wow, you are good. Can you tell me how you make a bird and a fish love each other? How do you make it start?”
“Well,” I turned to the crow, “Can you tell me what you think when you see a fish?”
“My institution tells me to eat it,” the crow said.
I turned to Robert, “It’s how the story starts.”
“I don’t understand.” Robert shook his head.
“Neither do I.” Crow wagged her head.
I chuckled, “If it is easy to understand, it can't be called a romance.”
Both Robert and crow raised their thumbs up.
No comments:
Post a Comment