Peter's visitor is at it again. It started when the Autumn leaves turned into shimmering spectrum of shades of pastel colors. He noticed the bird when he woke up one morning while sipping his cup of tea, he saw the winged creature flying like a hummingbird by the mirror.
It was amusing the bird thought that the reflection it has seen was that of another.
Then, he became somber as he realized that it was on the contrary a stark experience of a friendship.
Why? Because from that unforgettable early cold morning the bird kept coming back to visit it's so-called friend.
It became all the more endearing as he observed when he came back from Scotland that the bird is still a regular visitor.
The bird he admired for the sole reason that though it was not real its' loyalty was sublime.
Peter thought to himself. Such loyalty. Quite a splendid friendship.
Then, he surmised come to think of it some human friendships though real could not compare to the black bird.
For whatever purpose the mirror was magical. To the bird the reflection is real. To the bird it matters.
Peter thought for a millisecond what a pity because he knows that the feathered phenomenon's reality is a sham.
But then again Peter heaved a sigh of relief because even then the bird is joyful.
And then he smiled because that is what matters the most.
Ironic.
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