Mr. Greenwood was our upstairs neighbor; he had a German Shepherd named Rocky.

 I gave a sigh as I pulled up and parked the car.  Mr. Greenwood was playing fetch with his dog. While Rocky was probably the most disciplined dog I’ve ever seen, I still had a healthy dose of fear of him. I wasn’t particularly a pet person, at least not where cats and dogs were concerned. Puppies and kittens I could deal with. They could be cute, but I still didn’t have any desire to pet or cuddle them. But it was moot point in my opinion because puppies and kittens grew to be dogs and cats that were huge.

 I especially disliked it when dogs' owners allowed them to roam free, assuming that everyone their dogs came across actually wanted to be bothered. Rocky wasn’t currently on a leash, so I was perfectly content to sit in the car until they were finished. Although Rocky had never ran up on me, that didn't mean he wouldn't.

 Thankfully, Mr. Greenwood recognized our family car and called Rocky to him, putting him on a leash before walking him a little way down the sidewalk, and I took it as my chance to get into the house.

 “Good afternoon, Nya!  Your parents still doing okay?”

 “Good afternoon! Yes, they are doing fine, thank you!!” I returned as I walked up the path and to the front door. My eyes glanced at the open window upstairs across from us. Mrs. Madison always kept the window open. She even took the screen out. Never did that window seem to close unless it was raining or snowing. In the winter time, more often than not, the window was still cracked. I unlocked our apartment door, 704, and went inside.

 I was more than happy to be able to live at home with my parents while I attended college. I didn’t think I was missing anything other than dorm drama. Plus, it just made sense to save that extra several hundred dollars per semester for a dorm. Tuition by itself was high enough.

 “Didn’t get home fast enough to beat Mr. Greenwood and Rocky before they came out, I see.” My mother quipped as I came in.

 “Had you gotten here five minutes earlier, you would have been clear”, my father added from where he was sitting and looking out of the window.

 I shut the door and locked it, “A slight backup on the freeway.”

 I saw my dad’s head bob as he said, “He always keeps the same schedule which means he should be going in….in….my point exactly.”  My father said just as Mr. Greenwood called Rocky to the porch and they went into their apartment.

 “We are having catfish today!” my mother announced.

 “I know. I could smell it from outside in the hall.” I was kicking my shoes off before making my way to my room. I would get my bath and then eat. I didn’t have to worry about homework;  I had finished it during my work study.

 I entered my room and was greeted by my plants from their dedicated corner. I gave a wide smile as I saw their wide green leaves. I purposely placed them so they would be the first things I would see when I entered my room.

 “Hello!!” I chirped at the plants, inhaling deeply.

 Our family had always had green thumbs. My Grandmother grew up on a farm but in time the city began to flood into that area. After she married at 20 years old, she maintained a garden growing all sorts of food. My Grandfather was more of a homebody, preferring to stay in the house than work a garden. So he largely left my Grandmother to it.

 I remember, as I was growing up, going to Grandmother’s house for the summer. We had all sorts of fresh fruits and vegetables. And then when she cooked!!  Wow!!  That was so long ago, but at times I could swear I still could taste her food. Grandmother believed in eating as healthy as she knew how, so she didn’t cook that many sweets.

 But when she did….

 It was Grandmother that brought me my first plant to grow and take care of when I was 18 years old. She had done the same for my mother. I got it as a present when I graduated from high school. I fell in love with flowers. They smelled sweet and released oxygen that kept my room smelling fresh.

 But Grandmother died. I missed her a lot so I would often find myself becoming melancholy.

 But before I could get too far down that melancholy road, something blue shimmered in my eyesight. I turned and looked at the brilliant cerulean blue feather that laid on my desk. I picked it up gingerly. I hoped that blue bird ended up being okay. I couldn't believe it had been a little over a week since that random incident.

 It was the Friday before summer classes started. I was in my bedroom that afternoon, sitting at my desk, window open, when suddenly something hit my wall a mere foot from my head. Having a high sense of self-preservation, I tumbled to the floor with a shock. Was that a bullet? Was World War 3 happening?  I wasn’t on anyone’s kill list, was I? I wasn’t even on a friend’s list, much less an enemy's list.

 My mind raced as I crouched on the other side of my bed, still as a statue.  My parents had gone away, which was why my mother didn’t burst through the door. I waited and waited, but nothing else happened, as far as I could see.

 So I took the chance to get out of my room. My cell phone was on my dresser next to the window, I couldn't get to it, otherwise I might have called 911. I crawled low on the floor to the door. I didn’t dare to even stand up on my knees; I just crawled on my stomach.

 But then I saw a blue lump moving on the floor next to my desk, and I froze. Was that….? It looked like a….bird? I blinked as I could clearly see the orange beak as it roused itself enough to sit up and shake its head.

 Wait!  

Did a blue bird just come slamming into my room?