______Some time ago, my darling friend and fellow wonderblogger, Amber, contacted me via carrier pigeon for an artsy opportunity.
______The carrier pigeon she sent came as a whirlwind of flapping feathers through my window, swirling alongside my ceiling fan until finally slamming into my bookcase. I scooped the awkward creature up and plucked the note from its scrawny leg, a little peeved about his messy landing. In curly burgundy handwriting, the note read:
______"Dear Ali, pls o pls draw me a thing and we shall rejoice with fancy lemon-enhanced sparking water and tootsie pop bouquets."
______Immediately after I read the note, a second carrier pigeon smashed beak-first into the previous one. This new pigeon was quite pudgy and his leg was equipped with an even lengthier scroll of paper. The chubby bird limped toward me, each hobble-step more agonizing than the previous, and I concluded that he had been emotionally eating upon the realization that Windex would never again employ him as a model in their window cleaner commercials.
______And how effortlessly he crashed into any window, too! Whether diamond-paned or slightly reflective, pummeling into a variety of windows was one thing he could never get wrong. The fat bird sighed.
______I detached the note before the poor creature could hobble any further toward me. The bird flopped over in exasperation, too tired to move or think about his future employment any longer. And so I sat at my desk, two restless birds by my side, and I began to read.
______Since my dream job is to be an illustrator, I inhaled the opportunity to illustrate Miss Amber's short story, which paints the musings of a man who romanticizes those around him to unrealistic expectations. People adored and were enamored with him; however, since he held himself back so much, he was never able to feel and connect with those around him, so the affection was rather one-sided.
*note: no pigeons were harmed or even existed before or during the creation of this post.
