ORIGIN: We stole the idea from that jack of hearts. It’s the fourth character’s fault, he should have held it as if his life depended on it.
Child: Long-necked birds have told me that luck is something that runs out. That means that it doesn’t have wings, and chasing it down shouldn’t be beyond the realm of possibility. I believe that there is still a hunter-gatherer somewhere in my blood. All I have to do is wake him up. But what about you two? What are your thoughts on luck?
Left: Scavengers can pick those bones clean, for all I care. I will take effort over luck any day of the week. All luck does is give your muscles an excuse to atrophy.
Right: I don’t know. Lucky break has a nice ring to it. Aren’t bones supposed to grow back stronger after a break?
Child: It’s not the first time I have been called a diamond-in-the-rough. Birds stabbing my heart with their long, long beaks. That’s how I would describe it. Nothing trumps the heartbreak of showing promise. But staying buried. Wingless. Unable to shine among the stars. That’s just my definition, though. What’s yours?
Left: Call me old-fashioned, but my favorite synonym for diamond is commitment. I like the fact that diamonds can’t be scratched with a fingernail. Attraction may be superficial, but I would like to think that love runs deeper and stands the test of time.
Right: Promise? Love? I can’t be the only one with both feet on the ground. At the end of the day even birds have to eat. There is no such thing as a bird’s-eye view of the stars. Diamonds can only be described as cold, hard cash.
Child: Fighting is part of life. Just like breathing. In the wild. In a birdcage. It doesn’t matter. Anywhere birds flock together, fights are bound to break out. But a life can’t be lived in complete isolation and still be called a life. So, you see, peace is simply out of the question. But don’t let me hog the conversation. What are your thoughts?
Left: I don’t mind. To tell you the truth, I am partial to hedgehogs. Birds tend to block out the sun, but you can tell that hedgehogs would like nothing more than to spread their rays of sunshine around.
Right: Don’t change the subject! We were talking about fighting. You made me a promise. I flocked to you. I crammed into the smallest space available. And now you have to deliver on it! A good old fistfight. An uppercut to the chin. How else am I supposed to land on the moon?
Child: Lovebirds belong in greeting cards, just like any other best wishes or thank you. I am not an emotional idealist. I don’t have hearts in my eyes. There are three types of cones, red isn’t the only color I see. You will have to forgive me, but love is just not what I live for.
Left: There is nothing to forgive. I know that there is more to life than love songs. But their melody comes naturally to most hearts, and the lyrics are already written down. It doesn’t take much to pass them off as your own. All you have to do is copy-paste an I love you. Nowadays it’s allowed. It’s even expected.
Right: Don’t sound so sad. Love’s beauty lies precisely in its universality. Birds might be born already knowing their song by heart. But we evolved from monkeys. Unlike birds, when you put them alone in a cage, monkeys forget. That’s why we are born copyists. It’s the only way we know to keep love alive.
It sure is nice knowing that someone has your back. Come again? That’s not how you would describe this scene? I see. Birds sing from the heart, and it sounds just like pistols being fired. Standing back-to-back is just the prelude to walking away. Soon they will turn, and bullets will fly, aiming straight for their opponent’s heart.
West-facing Duelist: I’ll bleed you dry. You should never have touched what’s mine.
East-facing Duelist: Don’t be like that. Can’t you just take a page from the sky? When rain clears, windows can’t help but hang onto a stain or two. The sky doesn’t deny them that small keepsake.
West-facing Duelist: Don’t be afraid. I won’t aim for your wings. I have no intention of clipping your dreams. But my feelings are still hurt, and I don’t think I will be able to forgive and forget unless I see an apology written in red.
East-facing Duelist: That’s perfectly fine. Thank you for letting me keep my dignity intact. I’m sure that groveling wouldn’t become me.
East-facing Duelist: How could you! I trusted you! Don’t tell me that there are more fish in the sea. I don’t want more. I wanted that one. And even if it’s the last thing I do, I will watch you drown in your own blood.
West-facing Duelist: You have to get with the times, love. Attachments aren’t healthy. But I have nothing better to do so I will play along.
East-facing Duelist: I feel like changing the rules. On the count of 20, instead of firing our pistols, why don’t we set our birds free? Let’s test their love. Victory will go to whosever bird comes back first.
West-facing Duelist: Fine by me. But just in case, I will start browsing songbirds while we wait. Lately, I too, have been feeling like change is long overdue.