Tweet

Most people in town noticed Ed’s anger before his smile. He had always been a little cross with the world, but since his wife had died the month before, his mood had grown much darker. The house felt too big, the silence too heavy. He spent his days in his chair, staring at the garden without really seeing it, and at night he complained to himself about the cold sheets.

One afternoon, while he was reading the newspaper, there was a sudden thump against the window. Ed jumped. He went to look and saw a small bird lying still on the ground. “Stupid thing,” he said. “Can’t even see where it’s flying.” He opened the door, ready to tell it to go away. But when he bent down, he noticed the bird’s wing was hanging strangely. It was hurt.

Ed frowned. “This is all I need,” he said, but he couldn’t just leave it. He phoned the local animal home. A calm voice answered, “We can come tomorrow, sir. Just keep the bird safe until then.” Ed sighed loudly but went back inside, found an old box, and put the bird gently inside. He placed the box on the kitchen table and shook his head. “Don’t get used to it. Tomorrow you’re gone.”

The next morning, there was a bad storm. Rain hit the glass, and the wind roared through the trees. At lunchtime, the animal home called. “I’m sorry, sir, but we can’t come today. The roads are closed.” Ed banged the phone down. “Great. Now I’m running a hotel for birds.”

That afternoon, while he was half asleep in his chair, he suddenly heard music. At first, he thought it was the radio. But no, it was coming from the kitchen. His heart gave a strange jump—the tune was familiar. It was the song his wife used to sing while she cleaned the house. Her voice had filled every corner, light and cheerful, and Ed had not heard it since she passed.

He hurried into the kitchen and froze. The bird was standing in the box, its small chest moving quickly as it whistled the melody. Ed sat down slowly. “Impossible,” he whispered. Yet the tune was clear, note for note, just as his wife had sung it.

That evening, Ed tore a piece of bread and offered it. The bird pecked at it and then, as if in thanks, sang the song again. Ed listened with wet eyes. For the first time in weeks, his house did not feel empty. He smiled for the first time in a long while. “I’ll call you Tweet,” he said softly.

The storm went on for days, and each day Tweet sang. Sometimes it hopped across the kitchen table in a way that reminded Ed of his wife moving about the room. He began to talk to it as if it could answer. Slowly, the weight on his chest began to lift.

When the weather finally cleared, the animal home called again. “We can collect the bird today.” Ed looked at Tweet, who was now much stronger. He smiled. “No, thank you,” he said firmly. “I’ll look after it myself.”

In time, Tweet became able to fly again. But it never left him. Each morning it returned, landing by the window, singing the same song. Ed was no longer lonely. Each note reminded him that love had not left his house—it had simply found a new voice.

📒 Key vocabulary

• cross – a little angry or unfriendly
• frown (frown, frowned, frowned) – make a serious or unhappy face
• roar (roar, roared, roared) – make a very loud, deep sound
• freeze (freeze, froze, frozen) – stop suddenly
• whistle (whistle, whistled, whistled) – make a high musical sound by blowing air
• melody – a song or tune
• peck (peck, pecked, pecked) – hit or eat with the beak (bird’s mouth)
• hop (hop, hopped, hopped) – jump up and down
• weight on his chest – a heavy feeling of sadness

🤔 Comprehension quiz

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