Rest in peace, oh mighty Lord Freelance...

This is what morning brought me - disaster, before I even got a first sip of my morning tea. Two birds, one as dead as a very soft rock, and one mourning and dumbstruck, just outside the glass walls of my balcony. I ate my breakfast ponderously, wondering why I had to begin my day with death.

Unfair or not, I had to do the right thing. I took a deep breath and went out to the winged and shattered couple on the balcony, swiftly knighted the dead one as Lord Freelance of Many Skies and gave his presumably faithful dame the name of Lady Trueheart. Before I took the body away from Lady Trueheart with my plastic bag-covered hand, I promised her that her man would be well taken care of. I dug a grave, six birdfeet down, with my spade, and put the Lordling in it. I found a pretty rock and a pink rose and the funeral was concluded.

My only problem now was the lonely birdgirl (or was the lady a boy?) who still had not moved and possibly suffered from internal bleeding or some obscure mental illness (aren't they all?). I decided that what she needed was to get away from the unfortunate spot which she, for some reason (possibly out of shock) had chosen to contaminate with loads of poop. I put her in an apple tree not too far away and left her there with her lax body and panic-stricken eyes. Planning for a new life, far away from glass balconies, or dying, only to join Lord Freelance, I don't know.

You might find me crude and inhuman for documenting this tragedy. But for their deeds they shall be remembered, as I would have wanted, had I gone through what they have.

So fly freely, Lord Freelance and cry dryly Lady Trueheart, for life is unfair and you never know when you will hit that window that will break your neck.

Edit: I know that you don't exactly knight someone into a Lord. But it was birds! It's a whole other world, them birds. I mean, they fly! Plus, I really like the verb. To knight someone.