THE golden rays of the early morning sun the next day filtered into the bedroom through the open windows, and filtering into Oswald's closed eyes. As soon as they landed, he stirred in his sleep and yawned, using his right hand to shade his eyes from the sun.
Soon, a sky blue coloured bird flew up to the window pane and landed, tweeting loudly, like it was asking Oswald to get the hell up.
It tweeted so loudly that whatever iota of sleep that was in Oswald left him immediately and he got up with a start, and a wail. Then next, he sharply turned to the window with a frown on his face, and that was when the innocent bird flew away, its mission accomplished.
Groaning, he looked away from the window and turned to the bedside table, his pads and phones were all lying there, and he stretched
