There once was an artist whose parents were hummingbirds. Everyone thought this was some grand metaphor until she introduced them at one of her exhibitions. They were both a lovely green and seemed quite proud of their daughter. They hovered in front of each painting, cocking their heads from side to side, before settling by the flower arrangement on the refreshment table, taking delicate sips of nectar.
“Do you miss living in a nest?” I asked the artist.
“No,” she said. “But sometimes I miss being an egg.”
This flash fiction originally appeared in the LibZine.
Like what you read and want to help me create more? Support my work through Patreon, Venmo, or Paypal.
Kameron Ray Morton 
Leave a comment