I'm walking along the busy sidewalk's, my leather jacket slung over my shoulder. It's a brilliant morning; the burning ball of fire is slowly rising over the horizon, illuminating New York City in a lovely blanket of warmth. As I walk, I notice the potted plants resting in the shade of the neighboring apartment window sill. I smile. I feel relaxed; I have no work, and it's just the perfect day. I walk to the park; I'm looking down, and the cracks in between the cement squares remind me when I was a kid. The rhyme "step on a crack, break your mother's back" came into my head. Once again I smiled. Until I came upon the most unfortunate of things. A bird, it's wing in an acute angle that looked the most uncomfortable. I kneel down,(my legs crack normally) and I look at it closely. It looks back at me, fright clearly filling it's eyes. “It's okay,” I say, desperately trying to comfort it. “Hold on. I'll be back.” I run back to my apartment, and I think. I think about the bird, and wonder...what if I wasn't there to tend to it? I think in the bird's perspective, noticing that with out me coming to save it, with out me caring...that it would be hopeless. It doesn't have a doctor to go to. It's just a bird doing its thing, trying to get through the day, and it gets hurt. Now no one...nothing can do those things that is was about to do for it. It's tasks are on hold. I grab a shoe box, and race back to the park. Some boys were gathering around it now, and as they see me running towards them, one boy comes over and tells me all about the bird as if I hadn't known what was there. He was not dressed as nicely as the others were; one button was missing from his jacket, but all that mattered to me was the bird “There's a bird here. It looks pretty bad.” “I know, get back please” I respond. As I attempt to pick up the bird, it makes a noise. It's a noise not like a happy, lovely chirp that most birds make when they awake, but it was a noise of despair, as if it had given up hope. I hear other birds singing joyfully, flying through the air. I pick it up and as I did, I noticed a button that was similar to the one boy's. I place the bird into the box, and then stood up. “Here kid,” I said while handing him the button. “Have your mother sow this on for you okay.” “Thank you sir,” he responds, “but is the bird goin' to be okay?” I could here the concern in his voice. “I'll make sure he's okay.” I walk to the vet, holding the bird under my arm.

In a matter of days, the veterinarian calls and informed the bird was okay, and was lucky that I came along. I go to pick it up, and when I walk in it started singing joyfully. “Thank you,” I told the vet, “I appreciate it.” I walk back to the park and I see the boys playing. I call them over to see the bird take off. It's flew away, doing tricks as it soared above the city. The boys cheered. I walk away quietly, and I smile.