Parrot Parfait
A dude eclectus parrot
I had something magical in mind.
You know, when I was younger, I used to have a close friend of mine that I'd always play with. Though, she was a bit... special. She hardly spoke, hardly ate, and hardly went outside. With that being said, nobody was her friend (minus me), but she didn't mind being alone. Actually, she usually preferred it. I still remember her hostiles stares when I first approached her those first couple of times. All those things definitely set her apart, but what made her really special was her "gift". It was a parent's day that my friend's mother saw us interacting. Probably because she wanted her daughter to develop more, my friend's mother asked my mom if I could come over to play. One thing led to another, and I ended up on a playdate with my friend the same day. I vividly remember being impressed when seeing my friend's house for the first time, but what really stuck with me was when we began actually playing together. At first, I thought we were just going to draw or to play with toys like we did in school, but instead, we did something we never did in school: origami. While borrowing one of her books, I followed along (albeit, with a struggle), and both of us began folding multiple different shapes and animals. On our seventh origami, however, that's when her gift manifested in front of me. Without warning, the paper crane she made as a demonstration shuddered. At first, I thought it was just my imagination, but after shuddering again, I paid closer attention to the little crane. In just a few moments, the paper crane began to convulse before bursting to life, flying around the room like an actual bird. Immediately, I tugged on my friends shirt, pointing out that the crane she made was flying, but she didn't even bat an eye and just continued making more animals. One by one, each of the origami animals she made began springing to life as she continued to make more. By the time she stopped, there were more than 20 different animals. Birds, monkeys, tigers, elephants, it was an entire menagerie of paper animals. Of course, I just had to play with them. They distracted me until I noticed that my friend had stopped, and that's when I saw her expression while she was holding one of her animals. Even to this day, I still have a hard time explaining what I saw, but the best way I could describe it was this. It was an unfathomably loving and yet despondently forlorn. I never interrupted her whenever she was like that. When our playtime was up, all her animals gathered to the table before unfolding and uncreasing themselves perfectly in their original, neat paper squares. From then on, I can't remember the count of how many times I visited her house. It's a shame. If she hadn't moved, then maybe... Nevermind. I'm getting ahead of myself.
You know, when I was younger, I used to have a close friend of mine that I'd always play with. Though, she was a bit... special. She hardly spoke, hardly ate, and hardly went outside. With that being said, nobody was her friend (minus me), but she didn't mind being alone. Actually, she usually preferred it. I still remember her hostiles stares when I first approached her those first couple of times. All those things definitely set her apart, but what made her really special was her "gift". It was a parent's day that my friend's mother saw us interacting. Probably because she wanted her daughter to develop more, my friend's mother asked my mom if I could come over to play. One thing led to another, and I ended up on a playdate with my friend the same day. I vividly remember being impressed when seeing my friend's house for the first time, but what really stuck with me was when we began actually playing together. At first, I thought we were just going to draw or to play with toys like we did in school, but instead, we did something we never did in school: origami. While borrowing one of her books, I followed along (albeit, with a struggle), and both of us began folding multiple different shapes and animals. On our seventh origami, however, that's when her gift manifested in front of me. Without warning, the paper crane she made as a demonstration shuddered. At first, I thought it was just my imagination, but after shuddering again, I paid closer attention to the little crane. In just a few moments, the paper crane began to convulse before bursting to life, flying around the room like an actual bird. Immediately, I tugged on my friends shirt, pointing out that the crane she made was flying, but she didn't even bat an eye and just continued making more animals. One by one, each of the origami animals she made began springing to life as she continued to make more. By the time she stopped, there were more than 20 different animals. Birds, monkeys, tigers, elephants, it was an entire menagerie of paper animals. Of course, I just had to play with them. They distracted me until I noticed that my friend had stopped, and that's when I saw her expression while she was holding one of her animals. Even to this day, I still have a hard time explaining what I saw, but the best way I could describe it was this. It was an unfathomably loving and yet despondently forlorn. I never interrupted her whenever she was like that. When our playtime was up, all her animals gathered to the table before unfolding and uncreasing themselves perfectly in their original, neat paper squares. From then on, I can't remember the count of how many times I visited her house. It's a shame. If she hadn't moved, then maybe... Nevermind. I'm getting ahead of myself.