Love Bird

Do we Fall?

Fall was happy. It was his first-ever day at his new job. He had seen members of his flock get recruited and saw how they spread love. He did not fully understand what was required of him, but he showed up ready. He landed on the windowsill of Mr Demure. Mr Demure was famous all over the land for his need to send letters. Fall was always curious as to where all these letters were going and was happy to get some answers. He did not understand why Mr Demure would specifically ask for a new pigeon to take this, but Fall was not the type of bird to think about things too much. In fact, he hardly thought about things that did not serve him or his stomach. Mr Demure tied the knot around his leg, and Fall clasped the well-rolled letter and took flight. He did not understand why the letter was in a plastic seal, but that was not his job. Maybe it was just his luck, maybe it was because he was new to the job, maybe he was hand-picked by someone greater than Mr Demure for this exact moment. This was, in more ways than one, going to be a life-changing delivery.

Our young bird had been flying for a few kilometers now, and he was single-handedly doing something for the first time in his life. By himself!
“Hey, who said that?”
What’s this? Fall, is that you? Can you hear me?
“Yes, I can hear you; you are louder than a hornbill.”
Well, that’s not very nice. I am the narrator; I have feelings too.
“Narrator? What’s that, someone who can’t mind their own business and retells the events of other people’s lives as they happen?”
That’s harsh, but well, yes, I would say you are not far from the truth. “Shouldn’t you get a job?” What? This is my job. You know what? Shut up! “What kind of bird are you? Actually, let me focus; it’s my first day doing this, right?” Well, I cannot say how many times you’ve done this, but yes, it is definitely your first day. “Then nothing can ruin this for me, not even you, Hornbill.”
Oh boy! “What?” You should not test fate like that.
“Why?”
Fall looked ahead and saw a sea on the horizon.

“Why would that be a problem?”
Because it’s the sea of…
“Silence. Hush, I don’t want to know; let’s all mind our business from now on.”

Fall thought he had it all under control, but this was no ordinary sea. As he soared across, he noticed something.
“What’s that?”
In the sea were over a hundred thousand letters floating.
“Oh my wings, are those?”
He was shaking like a chick in winter at the realisation, the horror. All these were letters sent out to loved ones, to important people, but unfortunately the birds never made it past this point.
“Wait, wait, are you saying they are…”
Most birds do not make it past the sea.
“How? This is genuinely an open sea, calm as seas come; how could this all happen? Is this another one of your games?”
The problem is they are always looking for signs of a probable place to land, and when they do not get that, the quiet starts to eat them up. It is the first step in any delivery, relying on pure hope that the recipient will meet you in the middle. When you start to doubt whether it is mutual, whether the land is still waiting for you to cross the sea of silence, something far worse happens.

“I am not even thinking about any of this. Why are you trying to scare me?” Fall thought his fear was external, that something beyond himself was introducing this in him, but the truth was he was afraid.
“No, I am not.”
He was afraid that he was not going to make it. That he would, like everyone else, perish. That he would be like everyone else who died with their words because they did not have the guts to confess.

“Hey hey, no perishing. I am not afraid!”
You know you’d die if I said so, right?
“What.”
Oh nothing.
“I’m flying, and you are the one who is high right now- the irony.”

As our reflection stares back at us and we just see our vulnerability, with our message held close to us, trusting that the recipient feels the same. It’s a devastating sight; not even the strongest of birds can go unscathed.
“Yeah, you are definitely high.”
It’s not the calmness of the sea that is devastating; it’s the fact that in the quiet sea, with our reflection below us, our mind is the loudest place, until…
“Until what?”
The storm.
“Storm what storm?”

FEAR.
“What, what’s that? Why are the tides rising?”
Fall was starting to understand.
“No, Fall is- I mean, I am not understanding anything!”

The clouds began to form; more than in the sky, they were forming in his mind. At first they were scattered, flashing across the sky, but now they were gathering. With every new thought, they darkened and darkened until his mind was an abyss. The limit of overthinking, where no more thoughts can go. A breakdown; it started to rain.

Fall was now swaying in the sky as the wind underneath his wings was overwhelmed by the wind above them. His wings were now wet, and flying was becoming a workout.
“Are you trying to kill me?”

The storm was not in the sea; it was in his mind. The fear that all was futile, that no matter how many attempts he gave this, the result would always be him, empty in agony on repeat. “This is not the time to play encyclopedia. I could use some help here.”
There was no one who could help him.
“Look, you are like some kind of wizard, right? If you can make things appear, you can make them disappear.”
Clearly, you haven’t read a book in your life. You have two options: either turn back or face your fear, literally, and go through this manifested storm.
“Wait, so this storm is my fear?”

But the fear was not only his; it was also Mr Demure’s.
“Who could have thought a guy named Mr Demure had this many fears and insecurities, who?”

This was his first job, his first-ever delivery, and Fall had no idea what he was going to do; either way, the consequences would be extreme.
“No idea what to do, huh? Watch me.”

Fall started to go higher. With every flap, he pushed the wind down and added a few inches to his altitude.
“You said this storm is the fear that me and Mr Demure don’t get a landing point on the other side; is that it? Well, what do we do in the eye of the storm? When fear confronts us, and we have nowhere to go?”
Do we fall? Against all odds, Fall was rising. His wings were wet, and all laws of physics were working against him. In fact, all laws of nature were working against him. The tide was approaching; it was so high that it looked like a tsunami.
“Is this really what our thoughts look like?”
The mind is a powerful place Fall.

But then he realised something. The deeper in despair he fell, the higher the tide rose. All this time he had nothing but sheer will, but he forgot the one thing he needed to do. He needed to let go. Facing his fears never meant he had to beat the storm. It just meant he had to see it and not be afraid. Because fear gave it more power and made instinct pointless, no matter what he tried to do. He closed his eyes and let go. He stopped trying to rise. All he needed to do was trust in the silence. The answer was always yes. For love, we always fall.

I love you?

A bird washed up on shore in critical condition. Next to it, Fall was dragging himself on the land. He had tried to drag it with him, but he realised it was a toy. What a relief. He had beaten the storm. He needed a place to dry himself to keep warm. A little deeper in the mainland, he saw rising smoke. He did not even think twice and took flight. Well, at least he tried. After a few attempts to shake off the water, he was finally able to take off.
“How did I do?”
I am the narrator; I cannot comment on the character at their request.
“Just say it, I was great. I mean, I thought I would die, but I did not.”
Yeah, you did not.
As he was flying, distracted, he hit a tree.
“Ha! Jokes on you; there are no-”
He picked himself up, rubbing his beak rigorously. Surprisingly enough, he was not hurt. “So just like that, you say I hit a tree, and I do? Jeez, I know I am great, but the hate is real. No more tree hitting.”

Fall finally discovered the source of the smoke. A stand-alone house in the middle of the woods with a fire going. The smoke was blowing from the chimney. Fall flew to the open window, hoping to get inside. He hit the window so pathetically it was laughable. After several attempts to get inside, he finally found an open window pane and flew inside. He landed on a basket that felt more like a nest. He had not been this comfortable in a very long time. The house was small and rather empty, except for someone. There was a lady just near the fire reading what looked like a newspaper or a magazine. Fall looked closer and found it a bit bizarre. At first he thought he was making it up, but then he realised he was not. Every single line of the newspaper, every picture, and every section had the same phrase copied over and over again. ‘I love you.’ With every new page the woman turned, the words I love you popped up in the same font, the same black font color, and the same font size. They were completely identical.

“Why would anyone read that?”
The time on the clock was about four in the evening. The woman was dozing off, but still she read on. However, with every new page, her will to keep going kept diminishing. She turned page after page until she wanted to stop. Out loud, she confessed that the next page would be her last, but to her surprise, the next page was empty. Nothing was written on it. She looked in her hands and, for the first time, realised that she was holding a pen. Without much thought, she began to write. Still, she wrote ‘I love you.’ No one could blame her; it was all she had read. All she had known. As she wrote, still dozing off, her pen slipped and made a slightly bigger I. That was when she came to the realisation that she could write ‘I love you’ in different ways. She started to write, in all caps, ‘I LOVE YOU.’ In all italics, ‘I love you.’ She even did calligraphy, and suddenly the sleep that was sucking her reality away vanished. The boredom of monotony. After a few minutes, she started to randomly draw shapes and see if she could create other ways of writing the three words. For the first time, she looked around her house. Anything she saw around her- a shape, a symbol she tried to add to I love you. But that was when she wrote something. Something so strange that it made her doubt her own words. The ‘?’ mark. She had gone too far. All along, in all the versions of I love she had made, with different shapes, fonts, sizes, all those were statements. With these new symbols, it felt like she was asking, questioning the I, the love, and the you. Truly, she had gone too far.

Her husband came back home, probably from work, and brought her another newspaper. It was the same as the one she had. Same phrase: ‘I love you.’ But for her, she had another version of I love you. The question version. It was six o’clock. When you don’t know whether it’s night or day, do you leave or stay? She did not say anything. She simply walked out of the house and left.

Fall watched as she took one step after the other. Slowly, her form faded as did the setting sun. It was dark now; the fire had died out. “What is that feeling when you have seen something somewhere?”
You mean Déjà vu?
“Yes, I believe I have been in this exact room at this exact moment.”
Yes, that is common everywhere.
“No, you don’t get it. I feel like I should stop her. Why isn’t he stopping her?” He loves her, but he is too proud to admit it. The question mark was never doubt; she just needed reassurance.
“Reassurance- how do you even make up this nonsense?”
I am the narrator; I see everything before it happens.
“Will she come back?”
Whether or not she would come back, that was a question only she could answer.
“And here I thought you knew everything.”

The husband started the fire again, but this time the cold did not burn. Fall was starting to feel it too. It was best to leave while he still could.

I can’t see

In his hurry to leave, Fall did not recognise how dark it was getting; he could not keep flying like this.
“Please don’t say I hit another tree.”
He was flying blind when he tripped on a branch, and he landed face-first into the ground. “You are doing this on purpose, aren’t you? You are the worst narrator ever.” But wait, what was that? A voice- was that singing? It was coming from a few yards away from him.

“I haven’t seen someone fall like that since Newton discovered gravity.” An old, husky voice said from behind a bush, rather amused.
“Who said that? I don’t want trouble. If my falling offended you, please know it was not intentional; I am, however, diurnal and way outside my depth right now.”
“Why did you apologise to me? Falling is the most natural thing; why would it offend anyone? I was just making a joke.” The man walked in one of the moonlit patches in the forest. “Hello, my name is Pistis. This is my home.”

What did he mean by this was his home? In the middle of nowhere, in the shadows. Was this Pistis guy going to be trouble?

“What do you want with me, Mr. Pistis?”
“I am passing by, and I hear someone screaming and crying for their mother, and I just want to check up on you.”
“That did not happen…like that.”
“You should not be flying at night if you can’t see.”
“I am not blind. I can see very clearly.”
“Well, I am blind, but I think I can see better than you.”
“Oh, I am sorry if I offended you. It’s been a long day.”
“Not at all, I just find it funny when someone thinks having eyes is enough to see.”
“What do you mean? Isn’t that all you need to see?”
“Depends on what you want to see.”
“I feel like no matter what I wanted to see, I would need my eyes.”
“How do you see yourself then?”
“I could look at my reflection in the water.”
“Reflections- that is all the eye can see, my dear. If you want to understand truly, you need to see the original.”
“How do you see the original?”
“How does a bird learn to fly? How does a child learn to walk? You are more important than you think, Fall.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“It’s in your name. But be careful, your name can attract more ill will than you expect. Now I have said too much.”
“Wait, I don’t remember telling you my name.”
“Do you remember telling the narrator?”
“Come to think of it, I did not. Where is he?”
“Whose story are you, Fall?”
“Wait, where are you going?”
“To spread blindness, my dear. Take care of yourself.”

Fall blinked once, then again.
“Where is he?”
Fall! Is that you?
This is my story; you cannot just disappear. Are you hiding from me?
“I should ask you that, Hornbill. I was here talking to Pistis.”
Who?
“Pistis, the blind guy.”
I could not see or hear him.
“He was here; I believe it- no, I know it! How did you know my name?”
You said you spoke to Pistis?
“Yes, I did. A lot of what he said did not make sense. He said he was going to spread blindness?”
Well, I will tell you one thing. Your name is special; as someone who tells stories for a living, you are the type of person I would look into. I do not know what Pistis told you, but that whole blindness thing must be trust. The thing is, trust exists despite the presence of distrust. Just as blindness exists in the presence of sight. You do not trust somebody because they are trustworthy- no one is; you trust somebody because you want to. “I can’t really talk about trust myself, but some people are genuinely trustworthy; you should know that. You coming?”

Promise or take out

Fall was tired. He had spent the remainder of the night asleep, but he still felt like he could not do this anymore. It was now sunrise, and he was hungry. It did not take long before his senses registered a rather pleasant smell. Something intangible and inviting as a lover’s promise. That was all the invitation he needed. He flew as fast as he could and came to a stop at a restaurant. The outlook was spectacular. It was made of glass, but you could not see the inside. It had a concrete outline around it that was painted in blood red. There was something ominous about this restaurant, and the name only made it more suspicious.
‘The Covenant’. Fall, as usual, did not think much about it. All he wanted was to eat. He flew over and saw the air vents and decided it was better to go through them than to try and go in through the entrance. He took his place in the restaurant and was amazed by the number of people inside. They were all happy and smiling as they ate. But although not intentionally, Fall couldn’t help but notice that each time a customer left, they were either in tears or sorrowful. Something about this restaurant felt off. A waitress approached Fall and handed him the menu. Her name tag had the name Patience on it. Wasn’t that just lovely? A waitress named Patience. Fall smiled at her. She smiled back, but her eyes were telling a different story. Like smiling was something she had practiced to hide a suffering lingering in her. It would have been the most disturbing thing he’d have seen if he had not looked at the menu. ‘Showed up,’ ‘Called,’ ‘Stayed loyal,’ and the list continued. To his surprise, there were no prices on any of these meals. The waitress was called over to another table and flashed a smile at Fall as she walked away. “What are these meals, Hornbill? Ever had any in your narrator job?” You came here to eat, and now you are complaining?
“How do I know if they are good?”
Ever heard of eating? You could also just ask Patience.
“Yeah! But something is troubling her; I will not believe anything she says. Not when she doesn’t believe in her own expression.”
You already know what you want, don’t you?
“Let’s go to the kitchen; maybe we will find something there. I don’t know if that is allowed, but I need to know.”

Fall flew over, and making sure nobody was watching him, he pushed the kitchen door ever so slightly. It did not take long for his full body to squeeze through, and luckily for him, it did not generate much attention. The kitchen was circular, like a loop. It was fascinating, as he had never seen anything like that. The shelves were all around the room, with refrigerators straight ahead and the cookers in the middle. The cooks were running up and down, slicing, grating, heating, and cooking. The scent in this room was stronger than anything he had smelled before. It was the kind that felt like a reminder of home. What type of magic was this? Fall took a step, and then the next. At first, the big room was overwhelming to take in all at once, but as his eyes started to focus in search of answers, that is when he realized it. In containers all over were different ingredients and seasonings. From the preservation efforts, he could tell that none of these were fresh. He jumped on one of the counters and started to read the ingredient labels. “Do you know an ingredient called ‘I’ll be there,’ or are these made up?” I do not. What is the next one called?
“It reads like ‘see you soon’ or something like that.”
Keep reading.
“We have ‘I am not lying,’ ‘Forever,’ and ‘It’s only you?’ These are ridiculous.”
Fall did not understand it then; I mean, who would? But then he heard loud cheers coming from another room. It was only then that he noticed the names of the cooks. One was called Time, the other Intention, and the other Hope. All of them seemed to have these out-of-the-ordinary names. Confused, he decided to fly over and see what was happening in the next room. He pushed a side door and walked into what seemed to be a live cooking show. There was a chef on stage while guests sat around in a darkened pit. From his position, Fall could not see her name.
“For the last ingredient, three spoonfuls of ‘You are enough,’ and that should do it.” She declared as she closed the pot. “In three minutes we will have our signature dish ready to serve. It is not easy to make our famous ‘I love you, I promise’ dish, but with just the right amount of everything, you can make it work. It does not have to be perfect; not everyone can cook like me.” The guest laughed, and now Fall could see her name: Perfection. This was all starting to come together. A restaurant named The Covenant, all these weird ingredients and dishes. The cooks, the waitress, the prices, and the people’s reactions. This was a restaurant of promises. That is why everyone was happy until they had to leave. Nobody wants to leave the covenant because, for one meal, they get to experience a fully realised promise in a dish, prepared by the likes of Time, Intention, and Perfection at no price. Promises were made and served here, but once you leave, you go back to reality, where broken and promise are one word and not two. Perfection removed her apron and folded it nicely. She walked over and washed her hands over and over before wiping them on a plain white towel, which she also folded after she was done. She reorganised all the ingredients, and although she made no spills, she wiped the table. With no hurry whatsoever, she started to walk over, greeting the crowd. People looked at her in awe. This is what it meant to meet Perfection. Everything about her was straight from a utopian film. Waiters and waitresses had now entered the room to help with serving. Perfection finally got to Fall and looked at him.

“You are the only one here who doesn’t want to be like me. I see it in your eyes. Don’t take a serving of this; it’s for the broken. You are not broken; you are just not whole yet. I have something for you.”

Perfection led Fall into the main kitchen and, from the microwave, pulled out a dish. It was named Second Wind.
“Is this not a promise?”
“No, sometimes we are tied together by something bigger than words. I am Perfection. I do not make mistakes, so believe me when I say everyone else does. Everyone deserves this meal at least once in their life.”
“What did I do to deserve this? Is there something I did wrong?”
“Not you, but you definitely need this meal. Now eat; you have a letter to deliver.”

Fall walked back to the restaurant with his meal in hand. He sat there quietly as he ate. For the first time, he was thinking about it all.
“This journey, why am I going through all this? Why is everyone I meet so strange? Hey, Hornbill, better not tell this story like this. If you ever tell a story about me, make sure I am heroic and cool.”

Just then, Patience walked towards Fall’s table and placed a note on the table. “Here, sir, this is your bill.”
“What? I thought the food was free; Perfection gave it to me.” “I know, sir, but ‘second wind’ is not free.”
“I do not have any money.”
“That’s okay; just help out before closing time. It is not the price you pay; it is the impact you make. Enjoy your meal.”
“Did you see that she was actually smiling this time?” Fall sat there deeper in thought, and when he finished, he did not argue; he just started to help out. He was no longer hungry, and for that he was grateful.

What’s not broken

The air was getting thinner and flying was becoming harder. Fall had not stopped since he had left the Covenant, and this whole journey was starting to feel a bit too heavy. All he wanted to do was deliver a letter. All he wanted to do was make Mr Demure proud, but now he did not even know the meaning of the word. Maybe if he had someone to talk to.

“I can still talk to you, you know.” Maybe if he had someone who could make all this make sense. “We both know you can do that; you just don’t want to. I mean, come on, what’s the lesson here? This does not happen to all pigeons, so why me?”
If only he knew why all this was happening.
“It’s pointless talking to you.”
What he needed to understand was that some lessons are not learnt are lived.
“I can’t with you right now. I am so confused. Like I know exactly where I am going but have no idea why or for whom I am going.”
He was beginning to understand. Sometimes the destination is within. It’s why people get lost. He decided to fly lower as the altitude was starting to get to him. He could have stopped, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to deliver the letter and be done with all this as soon as possible.
Just then, when he finally started to breathe properly again, he heard something. It was as if there was a sudden shift in the wind. It was not as intense, but still something was off. Maybe it was the fatigue that had slowed down his senses, but he looked up just in time to see a dark figure fall on him. Falling. Fall was falling. It was the last thing he remembered before his eyes shut. Ironically, it felt nice. To just let go and trust gravity. He could have worried about where he would have landed, but he couldn’t help but think. Falling is easy because you always know where you are going.

What had it been? minutes? Hours?
“Oh my, I thought you died.”
A voice came from behind him. So he was not dead; that’s a start. He struggled to pick himself up, and only when a hand was placed over his wing did he realise how much pain he was in. He screamed out in pain, and as he turned around he saw a tortoise. “I think that’s broken.”
The tortoise said, rather pleased with his diagnosis. Fall looked down at his wing.
“Oh my wing!”
Without even trying to move it, he knew it was broken. It just had to be a tortoise, didn’t it? He was not angry, not at the tortoise, not at himself, nor at fate. He did not quite understand why, but he was at peace with everything.
“We should probably have that checked. Oh, it’s nice to meet you, although I wish it was more pleasant. I will get my tools. I am truly sorry for that; I seem to have miscalculated the energy of my engine…”
He was still talking. Even when he was going through his bag full of mechanical equipment, he was still talking.
“…Here, let me look at it.” What did he mean by have a look?
“Wait, who are you? What are you doing with all this equipment, and how or what were you, a tortoise doing in the sky?”
For once he seemed to not have any words.
“I am sorry, my name is Mundane. I am an engineer.” Fall looked at him in amusement before he realised he was actually serious.
“Don’t get me wrong, but you? An engineer? How did you even think of that? Aren’t you guys like very slow? Have you finished any projects so far, and still, what were you doing in the sky?”
“It’s okay; you can ridicule me. I get that a lot. It does not affect me anymore.” Fall hung his head low; he was not proud of what he had just said, but he was curious.
“Everyone said I should give up. That as a tortoise, I should just enjoy life because, for us, it doesn’t go as fast. But I knew I wanted more; I needed to be better. So I started learning every little thing I could, until one day I discovered physics. It became very interesting to me how there are so many forces that we can control; I figured if I could not control life, I could as well control forces. I want to fly. This is not the first time I am doing this. This is not the first time I fell from the sky. This is not the first time I want to give up. This is not the last time. I will wake up every day and show up until all my dreams are realised, and even then I will continue to grow.”

Fall looked at him and could not help but feel inspired and sorry at the same time. But he knew Mundane was not telling the whole story. Somehow, after everything he had been through, Fall was getting good at reading people.
“Why do you want to fly? What is your actual reason?”
There it was: the look you give someone when they ask something you did not want them to find out. He looked at Fall a little longer, then finally, as a tear rolled down his eye, he started.
“I met someone. A girl. By all laws of nature, we are not supposed to be together, but somehow fate brought us together. Or maybe it didn’t. She is a bird. She soars in the sky, and I am a tortoise; I am not even good at walking on land. She used to come here every day, and we had the best times together. But her father said that his daughter would not marry someone who she had to make all the effort for. He is right; effort should not be one-sided. No matter how much she tried to convince both of us that she didn’t mind it, we both agreed that effort has to be reciprocated. The deal is if I can fly from here to her palace in the sky just once, then from then we will meet halfway there each time.”

Fall was at a loss for words. What in the name of love was love? Why were people always going through things for love? Overcoming doubt, walking blind, believing in promises, and now this. It’s insanity elevated.
“Do you talk to her? How long has it been?”
Mundane smiled as his eye sockets bled with passion.
“We talk every day. I draw patterns on my shell, and she does aerial maneuvers. That’s the only thing that has kept us believing for the past three years: communication.”

Did he say three years?
“How do you know she still loves you?” Mundane’s smile turned to a grin.
“Every day, as I fly to get to her, she blows a rain cloud at me to keep me refreshed.” Fall smiled for a second as he thought how lucky Mundane was. To love is one thing, but to find someone you love and they love you back, that was pure luck. But then he started to think. Something he was not really good at. Something that perhaps this journey had made him better at. A rain cloud? No, it could not be, could it? She is not trying to keep him refreshed; she is sabotaging him. Mechanical parts and water, they do not- why was she..? Fall could not believe it. Everything Mundane is going through all of it is for her, and she does not want him to? Should he tell him? Would he even believe him? There was not much Fall could do about all this. Maybe he was even overthinking it; maybe she does not know anything about mechanics?
“Hey, Mundane, next time you go flying, waterproof your engine.”
That was all Fall said; he immediately began to walk away.
“What? Where are you going?”
Mundane could be heard, squeaking in between sobs.
“Just trust me, okay. Do it. What do you have to lose?”
“Okay, I will. Let me at least fix your wing.”
“No, you learn to fly first. My wing is all that’s broken. You have a lot more to fix.” Fall started to walk away, and he could not help but smile.
“I hope I am wrong. I hope she has not been breaking his equipment on purpose. Why would someone be so cruel?”
Listen, Fall, people are complex; you never know why they do what they do, but I am sure she has a good reason. I know I do. I hope.
“What do you mean? What have you done?”
It’s not my story to tell.
“The one time I ask for a story, and you won’t tell me. Well, I just want you to know that I would not have done this without you, Hornbill. You are annoying and all, but you are not that bad.” Don’t speak of things you do not understand, but yes, you would not have done this without me. Let’s go now, you have a letter to deliver.
“Okay, Riddler.”

I don’t remember

Fall finally made it to the address on the letter. This was all he had to do. He had been walking for seven days, and now he felt weak. The fatigue of achievement- what a beautiful pain to have. He had bandaged his wing, but it still hurt. He walked up to the door and knocked; he would finally see who Mr Demure wanted to deliver his letter to. Before he could knock a second time, the door flew wide open and on the other side of the frame was another pigeon. She was beautiful. No more, no less. He did not want to think much about it; he just tried to untie the letter. If all went well, he would maybe take a break and be on his way soon. It was a bit hard to untie the knot with his broken wing, so she came over to him and offered to help. All along she was looking at him as if searching for something in his eyes. Recognition? Fall did not want to dwell, not after the journey he had had. It felt like every station had been a lesson, and now he just wanted to internalise nothing more. She finally undid the knot and removed the letter from the plastic seal. She did not open the letter; she just handed it to him and said it was for him.
“What is she talking about? What does she mean it’s for me? ” Fall just read the letter. “Wait, did you know about this? You knew, didn’t you?” Fall read the letter. “So all that, everything we have been through, just to deliver a letter to myself? Are you playing with me right now?”
Please read the letter; all the answers you want are in there. This back and forth with me is the least productive thing you can do right now.

“Fine, I will read it. Do you know who she is?” Fall unfolded the letter and started to read it.

Fall, it’s me, Ling. By the time you read this, you will not have any memory of me, but I will be standing right next to you. I am your wife. Soulmate, if I dare say. We have been partners across lifetimes. I know it sounds crazy, but it is true. In every lifetime, we have found each other and fallen for each other. However, there has been a generational flaw in our love. You have shut me out with your pride, your empty promises, your complete lack of faith in me, and every time I feel unseen, in every lifetime. You have broken every promise you have ever made to me, and you are the one who has been sabotaging my efforts. I know it is a lot to take in, but in our last lifetime, I walked out after I started to question what love means. However, after searching, I found that I do not want to fall for a different Fall. I want you. So I made a deal with the narrator. In exchange for him rewriting your story to change who you are, he would steal your character and use it in any way. I sold your soul to a storyteller so that we could finally be together without you shutting me out. I know what I have done is unforgivable, but I love you. I may not get you again in this lifetime, but I know you will be a different person in our next one. You will be good, and we will be happy. In this lifetime, however, our story ends with the end of this story. It breaks my heart that I could not even be in it properly, but it is a price I am willing to pay. I love you; in this life and the next, I will always love you.

Your soulmate
-Ling.

Fall looked down at the letter for a little longer. He still needed to contemplate what had happened. Hey Fall, I am sorry for everything. You are right. Everything you’ve gone through- none of that was real; none of that is fate or the will of anything in your world. I used you for my story, for plot; I wiped your memory so you would be easy to manipulate. At least you know I would never have killed you. I know it is not funny now. Got to admit it, you are one of a kind. But the way I sat with you all the way made you feel like you were not alone while being the reason you were alone. I won’t romanticize it and say that our connection was real. It was not; I forced it. I just hope you can use whatever you learnt from this journey to be better. Now look at her, look after her. She is worried. My actions are inexcusable; it’s what monsters do. But we cannot act like I did not have a good reason. It is up to you whether or not you forgive me, but go now, go and own your story; I won’t interfere anymore. Be better in your next life.

“Wait, so I get to say nothing? It is my story, and you both want to end it like I was not a part of it. This is messed up, and you both know it. I do not know what I did in my past lives, but this is crossing the line. I trusted you.”
Listen, Fall, you can blame me, but don’t bring Ling into this. You and her are continuous, Fall-Ling. In this and in the next lifetime. I know you are disappointed, but please talk to her. That much you can do. I will finish the story now, no more invasions.

”No, you will not. I’ll finish my own story.”
You know nothing happens when the book ends, right?
“Yeah, well, maybe that’s what I need to do for a while- nothing. I’m sorry, Ling, and as for you, Hornbill, I am not even disappointed. Tell your own stories from here on.”