CHIRPED VOICES

”Why cry when you can laugh?” she said to herself, as she stood there waiting for the next customer to arrive. The week had been a long week for her; many a vacant stare, many a tonal wave of half-hearted musings. Finally, Friday had arrived, indulgent titillation was headed her way, and what titillation it was going to be. As she left her weekly position, she headed to the place she knew and loved, full of laughter and cheer it was difficult to choose a better place, another place, like the other. Step by step she made her way, then to her dismay, a call from a window: ”Hey, there. Yes, you there.” “Me?” She quivered. “Yes, you. We’re having a party up here, and you’re welcome to join, all are welcome here. Come on up. Here, use this ladder.” With a nervous giggle and an excited palpitation, up the ladder, step by step, made of rope and wood, not a single misstep. As she made her way through the window, with the help of an outstretched hand, four people she did see; four people, staring into four corners, not a whisper, not a sound. “Strange.” She thought. “You said you were having a party? But there’s no music. And why are those people staring into the wall like that?” The host, listening, but unengaged, walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. The four turned around, like toy ballerinas they turned. The window guillotined down! “What’s happening!? What do you want!?” She shouted, with clenched fists to her chest. The window rose up, the four-span round to their corners. Flapping her arms in haste, she flew to the window, flew down the still dangling ladder. “Fly, birdie, fly!” Chirped voices from the top raised window.