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Steve yanked lambsquarters from the front garden bed and dropped them into the trash bin next to him before sitting back on his heels on the kneeling pad. He swiped the sweat from his forehead and glanced at their birdfeeder to find a cardinal regarding him with something that might be keen intelligence in its black eyes. The bird’s vibrant red feathers reminded him of Iron Man, and with that remembrance came the same lingering ache that always accompanied thoughts of Tony. “Hey, little fella.”
The cardinal tilted its head this way and that before answering him with a burst of song—two drawn-out trills, followed by several sharp chitters. Was he being scolded or greeted?
Steve laughed when the bird dipped its crested head and pecked at some sunflower seeds. “Okay, okay,” he said. “I’ll make sure to keep the feeder filled. I promise.”
The cardinal trilled again before it danced on its tiny bird feet, gave Steve a last glance, and took off, its wings spread to catch the spring breeze.
It left Steve staring at the space where it had been, just like Tony had left him, going somewhere Steve couldn’t follow.
Maybe the bird would return tomorrow.