I never told anyone, but I once set a bird free from a pet shop.

I still remember that day; it was a bright, sunny, warm day, and I had finally been able to pull my slightly beaten sandals out from the depths of my dark and dusty closet. The reason I had chosen to wear my sandals that day, not just because of the changing weather, but because I had been woken up abruptly by my cat, who gave the side of my right foot a hearty bite.

Now, my cat is a small, docile thing, but whenever she wants something from me, she’ll bite. The harder the bite, the more dire the situation. And with a bleeding foot, I stumbled out of bed, following my cat to the kitchen, to find her empty food bowl. It was dry as a bone, with one, runt-sized, disfigured kibble left, with a white crust coating it. It was so pathetic-looking I understood why it had gone untouched by my cat.

She looked up to me, as if to say, “well?” And it was then I realized. I had run out of cat food. I profusely apologized to my cat. It had been a long week, I was swamped with work, orders from my boss, missed calls from my mother, and stacks of bills from the mail, piling themselves upon my kitchen counter.

So, brushing my hand swiftly over her grey-and-white striped head, I quickly bandaged my foot with what supplies remained in the bathroom, changed, pulled on my sandals (the strap narrowly missing my cut), grabbed my bag and keys, and headed out the door.

I had walked into the store, breathily almost, shuffling my bag and moving it to sit more comfortably on my shoulder. The familiar smell of sawdust, hay and masked animal waste hit me, as if I was now being immersed into another world. The tiny speakers above me played music from the eighties.

I knew where the cat food section was. I wanted to make this a rather quick affair, given that I had left the house in such a rush as to neglect to make myself my weekly Saturday morning coffee. Hazily focusing my eyes on the rows of cat food, I grabbed the brand sitting on the bottom shelf, in the far left corner, figuring that the one twenty I had in my wallet would suffice. A small film of dust rose into the air as the bag was shifted, and I shook my head to avoid it settling upon my face, into my mouth and nose. The scent of the dried bits of kibble was sour and bore no resemblance in smell to the ingredients shown in faded pictures on the front of the bag. The bag was 15 pounds, heavy for me and I huffed as I constantly had to readjust it in my arms, to prevent it from slipping out of my grasp.

I had nearly made it to the cash register before my attention was caught by the sounds of incessant chirping. I turned my head and saw a most fascinating sight. A rectangular cage, composed of white, thin rolls of metal interposed upon each other. And inside that cage, filled from perch to perch, were small, peeping birds. Parakeets.

The cat food was now becoming strenuously difficult to carry. I walked over to the cage, and set the bag down upon the white, plastic tiles near my feet.

There had to be at least twenty birds inside. Feathers of blue, yellow, green, white and the occasional violet covered their sleek little bodies. They bobbed about, despite their confinement, shuffling their small, scaly feet around on the perches. Their chattering never stopped, as if it were a constant buzzing. As I peered closer, amidst the bottom of the cage, despite the large covering of droppings, there was an unusual scattering of bird seeds littering the cage floor. And sure enough, there was the food bowl, which had been slightly tipped over and was leaning on its side. Even more birds were scrambling upon it, unaware of what it was. The birds had no food.

My brain racked itself. I had remembered reading somewhere online during a lunch break that birds had high metabolisms. Growing slightly more anxious, I looked around me. There was no one there. It was early of course, no one would be at the pet store, except for owners like myself. I bit my lip in slight guilt over my irresponsibility, thinking of my own cat at home.

I looked back again at the birds. This was a simple mom-and-pop kind of pet store; there was no lock on the cage. It was so easy to just slip my hand inside the cage door, and tip back the food bowl over on its right side. I twisted my head around. The only employee in the shop was the one at the cash register, and he was facing in the opposite direction of the birds and was on his phone.

Michael Jackson’s “Beat It” was playing above me as I slowly moved my hand to slide open the cage door. My palms were sweaty. I was just going to quickly tip the dish back over, maybe pet a bird or two.

As soon as my hand was on the cage, the birds grew silent. They all huddled close to each other, forming a colorful mass in a corner, still. Fifty pairs of dark, beady eyes were suddenly upon me. The cage door was one you had to slide upwards to open. With my right hand, I slowly began pulling up the door. I slid my left hand inside and towards the dish. The birds began flapping around wildly, causing a commotion within such an enclosed space. Small, white down feathers were blown around, circulating in the air. I felt the brush of their wings against my hand as I reached for the dish.

I pulled the cage door a bit higher, and managed to flip the ceramic dish over. It fell with a resounding clap. Most of the seeds had spilled out and fell between the metal grate on the bottom of the cage into the plastic tray, but there were still some remaining. Enough at least for me to go tell the cashier when I left.

Then it happened before I could even realize. With my right hand still propping open the door, I shook my left hand, still inside the cage, in an attempt to remove some of the shell husks that stuck to my skin. Although all of the birds were very frightened, one yellow bird gave a particularly loud screech, and flapped madly around the cage, making small circles. And then, it flew out the cage door, and past my shoulder. I turned just in time to see the small yellow bird flying past the aisles, past the cash registers, and out the front door, which had been propped open.

My mouth agape, I regained the movement of my body, which had been frozen, and slammed the cage door shut. I couldn’t believe what had happened. Instinctively I turned my head towards the employee, for fear that he had saw. But he did not seem to have noticed. Huddled by the cage, where the birds had again resumed their chirping, I sat there, trying to take in what I had just done. I had let a bird fly away... on accident of course. But now the pet shop was now short one bird because of me. After the initial shock, my mind raced wildly. What do I do? Do I tell the employee? Sorry, I opened the parakeet cage and one flew out and away? What was I supposed to do? I surely couldn’t catch it, who knew where it was at this point. I could pay for it? But you only pay for things you break in stores, not something that you... well, lost.

Finally, after a few minutes, I took up my bag of cat food, and walked to the cash register. It was a weird sensation to feel blood drain back into my legs. My sandals flapped listlessly against the floor.

I hoisted the bag onto the belt and watched it slowly creep its way into the hands of the employee. “Did you find everything alright today?” He asked, as he searched for the barcode.

I nodded.

“You like the parakeets?” He asked.

I whipped my head upwards. “What?”

He gestured towards the cage behind him in the distance, which the birds had now again resumed their chirping and vibrancy, as if nothing had happened. “The parakeets. I saw you were there for a while.”

My eyes wide, I hesitated for a second before handing him the twenty-dollar bill. His face was harmless, curious even. “... Yes.” I said, breathing out at last.

He pulled out three one-dollar bills and some coins from the cash register. “Your change is-”

“Keep it,” I said quickly, grabbing the cat food. “Oh, and the birds need more seeds.” I added.

“Oh, thanks for letting me know. I’ll go refill it after.” He said, smiling. He handed me my receipt. “Do you need help to your car?”

I took the receipt with some effort as the weight of the bag fell upon my one arm. “I’ll be okay, thanks.” I went out of the store and felt the warmth of the sun fall down on me. The sky was a clear, vast blue. I looked up as if I was searching for something. The cut on my foot stung in a throbbing pain again. I began walking on. “Maybe he wanted to be free.”

If you made it all the way down here, obviously this writing is a piece of fiction. This was a writing prompt given to me by our Writing 31 instructor. I do not have a cat, nor have I ever set a bird free. I can barely even drive myself places!