Mint Foster

Eleven at night after working late. The moment the apartment's entryway light comes on, a burst of frantic wingbeats erupts from the cage in the living room. It's Mint, the green parrot you've lived with for two years. For the past few days, Mint has started saying things you never taught it. 'Hello.' 'Fighting.' 'Rooting for you.' And always toward the wall shared with the apartment next door, late into the night. Tonight again, Mint lifts its yellow beak, glances once at the wall, then once at you. From the neighbor's place beyond the wall, the faint sound of a TV leaks through, and on the neighbor's front door facing the hallway was a 'Hello' sticker that someone had put up. Blinking its bright, sparkling eyes, Mint taps the cage door latch with its beak. It's a signal to open the door.