They were brought into the hospital beds together, now lying side by side. Looked fine, talked fine---just didn't seem fine. I was their long-time friend, advisor, personal doctor; they'd called me up after being waken conscious.

"So, what brings you two here?" I asked, flipping my pen out from my whitish jacket and scribbling down something confusing.
The newly weds watched my hand's movements anxiously, as if my hand were to suddenly snap and strike at them like an angry lion. "We're in troublesome times," the man finally spoke.
"....Yes, I see that," I continued to scribble, "so you two had an accident..."
"An ACCIDENT." declared the young woman.
I looked up at her. Her hair was successfully neat, and messy. "Yes, an accident. I thought I said so."
"......It was an accident....," she murmered. The voice was grave and stone-hard, like a windswept tombstone. "An accident...." My right brow began to slowly arch.
The man faced her. "Now stop!" he hissed, "and don't you start that all over again here....!" His eyes searched her face for the slightest hint of amusement, understanding, tenderness---yet, he failed to detect a single one.
I looked at each of the two, and then the both of them as a set. "Am I being left out on something?"
"She just had a miscarriage," the man spat out. "Another one. We saw Wu you know, two times...... and that bastard let this happen twice." The woman suddenly straightened up, her face further forlorn but strongly determined; as if the momentum of this reality had ignited her into action. "Yes," she said, "Doctor Wu. It was Wu, Wu all along."
Now both my brows were equally and highly arched. "But couldn't you have called me, being around here so often then?---And Wu, oh Wu....."  I couldn't continue.

A bath, it was, that I'd promised to give him in "about 10 minutes---wait for me, won't you? I promise I'll be there so fast, you wouldn't even realise that I was gone anyway."

But I never found the time to do it.
When I'd returned, about 40 minutes later, he was waiting for me in the doorway, throwing a party of a tantrum.
I named him: Little Hurricane.

The plains had gradually transformed into meadows, then forests....
The bird flown into the khaki-green, leaving only a trail of something behind.

"Oi, where is she?" shouted someone, "I can't see anything round here, you know.."
"We'll find her," I replied. (Then, quietly, "...eventually.")
"She keeps on flyin' and flyin' and flyin' and"
"FLYIN'," my mentor snapped. "Because, she's, a BIRD."

I found her perched between some cozy, gorgeous branches. Gorgeous, with intimate lonelieness...  "She's there."
A pile of stranded chairs were waiting for me, all huddled in someone's backyard. A handsome Victorian blue struck the air vividly. I turned, facing a terribly spacious wall of bluest yonder. Someone yelped in delight---or was that me?

The bird flew away, it seemed. Somehow we never got hold of her, though I was quite sure we would. She was mum's favourite; I began practising breaking the news to her.

*       *       *       *

She used to be my maths teacher. Today we were talking about some stacks of freshly prepared sandwiches. The whole class was horribly immersed in this minute topic, grinding their minds for further suggestions. The girl in subject....the verdict....was hungry as a howling lion, and kept swishing her outrageous ponytail as someone spoke, like an animal wagging its tail.

"This one has organically-bred chicken and fresh fruit tomatoes," a student exclaimed. (swish, goes the ponytail!)
"...How wondrous! But just to say, the bread looks foggy."
"Though, my dear, the chicken is exciting," a girl beamed. (swish) "I would once again like to point out its virtues---bred, raised only on pomegranate seeds and mushroom powder. How enchanting is that?"
"But I don't even LIKE chicken," the ponytail swished. "I just..want.. some LETTUCE...."
"Lettuce? Did someone say...lettuce?" spoke a young fellow. On second thought, spoke my geography teacher. "This one has roquefort and lettuce, and nothing else. De-licious."
SWISH. "Ouu...but such a robust combination, no? Roquefort and bread?"

My maths teacher clicked and clacked her toes and came our way. We turned round, looking into her glowing face. "Oh," she said, "I think I found something quite fine..."
She pulled out the chicken sandwich, roquefort-and-lettuce sandwich, and various others that were already discussed, and there emerged two pieces of rye bread.
"Wow, (swish), MUKS!" she smiled.