There's a steady tapping coming from a bird outside my house. Two taps, then three taps, then two again, then another two.

Maybe the bird is trying to communicate with me in some sort of rudimentary binary code. Or maybe the sound is some distinct set of waves created by the impact of the bird's beak against the air conditioner.

These sound waves strike my eardrums, and affect my brain so that suddenly I visualize a bird sitting across from me, writing a letter. He's a writer, just like me, and he's searching for contact in a mean materialistic world.

He just wants conversation.

I gotta write him back.