Mother Sparrow.

James would peacefully watch her in her garden, sitting on her swing under the giant oak tree. He could never see her face, for her back was always facing him, her brunette curls falling messily over her shoulders.

Don’t get him wrong – he wasn’t in love, or anything. He just found her interesting, even amusing sometimes.

She used to sit there for hours on end, just pushing herself lightly with her brown flip-flop clad feet, watching the family of sparrows that had made a nest in the garden rose bush. She watched as the Mother sparrow fed her children pale pink earthworms she had scavenged from the soil, which was littered with them because of the rainstorm the day before.

And he just watched her. Nothing could really bring him out of his trance – his trance of envy. He envied how carefree this girl was, how she could spend most of her time daydreaming her life away on a wooden swing, while there were thousands of people out there dealing with death and break-ups and drugs and much more problems. Her life was perfect. And so it continued to be, for a while.

James sat down on the light brown padded bench in his garden, like always, and looked up to where he could see the girl on her swing through a gap in the fence.

She wasn’t there.

Frowning to himself, he stood up and wondered over, sticking his eye close to the gap. The garden on the other side was breathtaking, of course. Dried leaves were scattered almost artistically across the lush green grass, some blowing away gently with the cool autumn breeze. His entire view was bathed in a soft golden light, from the carefully planted red tulips near the patio to the odd butterfly that darted past. The sparrows in the rose bush chirped happily to each other.

It was perfect, just like the mystery girl’s life.

He sighed, about to step back, when the French windows opened – and out walked the brunette girl, now shoeless and only wearing a knee-length black camisole dress. Her face was now clearly visible, though stained with mascara and tears.

James couldn’t help but notice that she was actually quite pretty, underneath the black smudges.

“Please don’t cry.”

His hand shot up to cover his mouth as the girl looked up, her eyes staring straight into his own. “Who are you?”

He opened his mouth to reply, but he just couldn’t find the right words to say. With a defeated sigh, he stood up to his full height and jumped on the wooden beam running along his side of the fence. He pushed himself over with a heave and dropped to the ground on the other side daintily, his feet crushing the emerald grass as he turned to face her. “…Uh… James. You?”

“… Erin.”

The two stood quietly for a moment, not really finding anything to say. James bit his bottom lip nervously, before deciding to speak. “Why are you crying?”

She looked at the soft ground for a few moments, studying the blades of grass poking between her toes. “… Lots of reasons,” she finally whispered, her eyes beginning to water as her bottom lip quivered. She wanted nothing more than to just scream at the sky, let her anger and built up frustration be shown to anyone listening in. But she wouldn’t let herself. She refused to break down. She’d promised her mother she’d be strong.

With a sad smile, he bravely took her hand and led her to her swing under the oak tree, pulling her onto his lap. He directed her small head into the crook of his neck, rubbing her back slowly. Erin pressed her lips together, trying to keep her emotions under control. The feelings this complete stranger was showing her were more than her own family had ever shown.

She pressed the thin material of his shirt between her fingers, staring blankly at her gnawed fingernails. Her eyes began to prick angrily as she forced the tears away. James sighed at how uncooperative she was being, still stroking her back lightly.

The gentle, reassuring squeeze he gave her just after that, though, was enough to make her burst into noisy, heartbroken tears.