From that day on, he stopped soaring into the air with force. He flew low and slow, mimicking the gentle movements of the dove. He preened his feathers again and again, searching for a gleam his black plumage couldn’t reflect. He tried to sing like her, but his deep voice cracked. He struggled to smile with his eyes, but inside he felt empty.
And the most painful thing was realizing that, despite all those efforts, nobody noticed. Nobody celebrated. Nobody saw it.
