Hear the thumping. Thumping like what? Like somebody's here, somebody's lost.
The robin got lost while God was off counting sparrows and hairs. The robin flew through an open space. She flew through a window that was up when the day was clear and locked again later when it was cold. She mistook the room for spring.
Thump thump. Thump thump.
The bird was banging into the break-room window. Where a little outside light leaked in. Flying into it and falling back. Flying into it. For hours. For a day.
The red breast of the bird in only really red in the sunlight. In the dusk of an empty warehouse it's more the color of pale liver.