Lamentation

The birds in their cages set up such a racket the second I stepped in that musty old room. Like they knew the old lady was dead. Like they knew as certain as I knew, in my own mind, that it was my fault she was -- my fault for being such a loud, lazy, self-involved twenty-three year old that I swore I'd carry her mail up the one flight to her apartment and in since the second day never, ever did, not once.