added.

It wasn't long before the news spread to the other boarders in the house.

Gilles Isidoro Mews died in the same way he had lived: alone, deprived and destitute. His home, in widow Bellano's small boarding house was the unkempt room he shared with another lonely soul. Four more rooms branched off a long corridor with high blistered ceilings and at the end of which, a tiny bathroom serviced the house's seven guests. Mrs. Bellano lived alone in her apartment on the second floor.

The house guests had assembled in the large common room. It was a somber gathering. The men sat in silence on the old soiled couches and chairs that lined the flaky plastered walls of the room. Two of the group, Sal and Pablo, stood up suddenly and walked eagerly toward the coffee pot percolating on the small gas stove in the corner of the room. The aromatic brew drenched and flavored the air in the room. It was unusual for all the guests to be together but today was different; the one they called Issi was dead.

Come and get it, grab your cups guys, the coffee's ready, Sal encouraged the men as he prepared to pour the hot drink.

The men queued next to Sal, each holding a cup to fill in their outstretched hands and then made their way silently to their seats, clutching the hot brew with anticipation.

As he sat on a nearby chair; Mike, one of the boarders, spoke. He had never done any wrongs to me, he said, fidgeting nervously with his cup.

Sal, who had finished pouring the coffee, scanned the room then turned to Mike.

He once told me a story, if you want to hear it I can try to remember how he told it to me, Sal said, addressing Mike as well as the rest of the group.

As if on a directors cue the men nodded together; maintaining their solemn mood.

Sal started to recall Issi's story. Well, we were in this room, not long ago and he told me that as a kid he found a bird lying at the base of a big oak tree behind his house. To Issi it appeared that the bird had a damaged wing. It was a white dove, I think,

Sal paused to glance around the room again and saw that the men were waiting to hear him continue. Sal went on. Issi took the bird inside the house and into his room, resting it on the pillow, on his bed and covered it with some wool and pieces of torn newspaper. The bird became comfortable with the extra attention and appeared to be recovering so he left it there. He would come back to it occasionally putting some water nearby, a small piece

• << previous page
• 1
• 2
• 3
• 4
• 5
• next page >>

---

Add your voice

Know something about Short stories: A link to the past?
We want to hear your view. Write now!