murder by numbers

murder by numbers

I heard the commotion and came as quickly as I could. It was mostly dark, but for a few hot pink stripes in the navy. And then the lowest visible spot of sky set the trees on fire, and crows, hundreds of them—no, thousands—were screaming and tearing holes in the sky, taking off with the treetops, leaving them bare as desert bones, nothing but a silhouette against this daily miracle of morning.