The Owl His Anthem
Ernie smiled at the pinhole patterns on the drop ceiling and if he squinted just right, he could see at least six faces smiling back. A hint of bluish moonlight streaming through the tiny barred window put all of the shadows in the right places. Two of the faces were long and gregarious, one squished and wrinkled like a rotten plum. The others were just ordinary.
But they all smiled.
A tune had been running through Ernie’s mind since yesterday and he hummed it as best he could. He couldn’t recall where or when he’d first heard it. By repeating it aloud, he hoped to discover not just its source, but what made it so memorable. He picked it apart like a complex mathematical formula, figuring out how each variable served some purpose in a grander scheme.
A door handle tw
