As Sam stepped outside to make his call, John retreated to his living room, the soft hum of his aging grandfather clock offering a strange sense of comfort. He found himself drawn to the window, watching as Sam engaged in what appeared to be a heated conversation, his hand gestures growing more animated with each passing minute. A knot of worry tightened in John’s chest. Who was Sam speaking to? And what was so disturbing about his ‘toilet snake’?
While waiting, John found his gaze wandering towards his sketchpad lying on the coffee table. It was still open to the drawing he had started that morning, a portrait of the White-throated Sparrow he had spotted. Somehow, the tranquil activity of bird-watching seemed a world away from the brewing storm in his peaceful home. A sigh escaped his lips. His world had changed in ways he couldn’t have imagined when he’d woken up this morning.