***

With a tequila sunrise in her hand the same colour as the auburn hair hanging down her shoulders, she stood out like sunbeam in the middle of a darkened room. Elegantly draped in a red chiffon dress that flowed down to just above her calves, there was something mesmerising about the way she held her drink, while swaying slightly in her high bar stool.

At five foot four, and less than a hundred pounds, petite might be the first word that comes up in your mind. Yet, if you could look into her eyes - unapologetically dark and sharp, like rough coal waiting to be polished or to burn red in the consuming fire of passion - you might be inclined to agree that fiery would be a better choice.

***

She bent down to sip a drink from the glass she held in her long well-manicured hands. She turned her face towards him and her moist red lips glistened playfully in the ever changing shades of the disco lights. Her thin long neck seemed to play hide and seek from behind the red brown curls that tossed about as she sashayed.

His broad chest heaved under the heavy groan of the music that pervaded the room. He ran his hands through his tousled dark hair and gave in to a mischievous grin.

300 words. End of assignment 3.

A world of endless possibilities. Tomorrow is, after all, another day.

Tweety is a fellow resident in my apartment building and has her nest just outside my bedroom. Because she reminds me of Tweety in Jamba’s ringtone ad and because I am rather unimaginative when it comes to christening birds, shes called Tweety. Tweety and I are good neighbours - even though she does not take any of the food crumbs I offer her, we have an agreement that she doesn’t wake me up with her cries before 7 am and I in turn don’t do anything to harm her nest.

Afterall, I do understand how much the nest means to her. She started building it a short while after I moved in here. While I sat by the window sewing the curtain edges, she would fly back and forth collecting small twigs for her nest. I moved to hanging the pictures, assembling the tables, fixing the beds - and she kept going at collecting her twigs. Even when I took my breaks and even after I eventually finished my moving in, she kept at it. Until she had built for herself a beautiful intricate little nest.

But as it turned out, it was not just for her. Tweety soon had a tweety Jr. - happened while I was away at work or while I was sleeping, but one fine day she was way too possessive of her nest and made too much noise when I opened my bedroom window. And then I saw that she had a new little fella to take care of. Oh well, Tweety dint trust me anymore. Her precious new born was too precious to trust her implicit arrangements with a silly human. I kept away - I can live with opening just one of my bedroom windows.

Over the weeks, Tweety was obsessed with Tweety Jr. - she was forever bringing him little tidbits of food and fighting over every little insect that came near him. She nurtured him, like only a mother can. One day, I saw she had a broken leg, probably fighting with a bird that came too near her precious. Tweety and I grew apart - apart from giving her a name, there was nothing I could do to make her my pet - and I was getting bored over her over possessiveness too - she wouldn’t even let me have a long peek at Tweety Jr.

Until today,when she broke our norms of good neighbourhood and seemed to be crying her heart out early in the morning. There was a certain hollowness in her cry - it dint sound like a Jamba ringtone anymore. I went to the window to check and I saw what had happened - she was alone in her nest. Tweety Jr. had grown his wings and flown away. To the unknown. And Tweety seemed to be inconsolably crying out loud, way too loud. In an attempt to pacify her and get back to my sleep, I put some bread crumbs and a bowl of water at my window sill. For the first time ever, Tweety gave in and had some of my food. She seemed a bit consoled. We seemed to share a special bond again.

I smiled at the cruelty of nature and the inevitability of her rules. And I shed a silent tear - for the goodbyes I have said in my own life.