The rain beats down on the rooftops of the little town. The wind grips the branches and makes them whistle sharp. Everything trembles.
Fares runs with his arms stretched wide, shouting into the wind: "I'll calm you down!" Rain slaps his face, and his jacket flaps big behind him.
He stops. He tilts his head. Under the downpour, a tiny voice: "Peep... peep..."
He looks up. A little bird on a thin branch, its wet feathers plastered to its body, its whole frame shivering. "Peep!" cries the bird.
Fares unbuttons his jacket and says, "Stay right here." The bird tilts its head, its wing trembling.
Fares climbs branch by branch. The tree leans and shakes with the wind. His fingers grip the wet wood tight.
He wraps the bird in his jacket. The little one squeals, "Cheep!" then burrows into the wool and goes still. A drip... a drip... silence.
In the evening, every window in town lights up and claps. Fares stands by the park, his wet jacket dripping, waving. The applause won't stop.