The student spots a sparrow, its brown wings snuggled beak opening only for the occasional chirp sitting on a dead winter tree with all the time in the world. “Damn,” they think, “that bird doesn’t need to worry about the SAT or its social status or its parents or its grades or its face”. They keep on walking. Then comes the widow. She detested that bird, who looked down at her with tearless eyes. “Damn,” thinks she, “that bird doesn’t lie awake at night cold, lonely, filled with regret waiting for something that will never come”. She moves on. The soldier arrives soon after. He had filled a lot of people with a lot of holes and felt like he had quite a few holes in himself. He hurls a great rock at the judgemental, no-good sparrow, and it flies away. “Damn” says he, “I wish I could have killed that bird too.” That bird soars above, “damn” it whistles, “I’m slowly dying of hypothermia.” That bird falls, twitching, and dies a few hours later.