The square wore a veil of rain. Mabel walked with her hands deep in her yellow raincoat pockets, watching droplets race each other down the cobblestones. A grey pigeon paced near a jagged crack in the pavement. She paused, tilting her head to listen to the steady tapping above.
The pigeon stopped, cocking its head. It pecked at the air, then turned and hopped toward the crack. Mabel followed, her boots splashing lightly in the puddles. She reached into her pocket, feeling for the crust of bread she’d saved from breakfast.
She pulled out a dry crumb and held it flat in her palm. The pigeon darted forward, tugging at the hem of her raincoat. Then it turned, cooing softly, and walked a few steps toward the crack. Mabel smiled, understanding the invitation.
Mabel knelt beside the crack, pressing her cheek against the cool stone. The pigeon hopped around the opening, scratching at the wet earth with its orange feet. Something moved beneath the soil. Her breath hitched. She carefully brushed away the dark clods.
She brushed away wet soil, revealing a stem no thicker than a thread, crowned with two perfect emerald leaves. The pigeon let out a surprised coo and flapped its wings, sending droplets flying. Mabel held still, afraid to breathe.
Mabel rested her palm flat on the ground beside the sprout, feeling the cool dampness seep through her glove. The pigeon stepped closer, pecking gently at a nearby leaf before settling onto her knee. She didn’t move. The square seemed to hold its breath.
The rain slowed to a whisper, then ceased. Sunlight broke through the clouds, painting the square in soft gold. The pigeon nestled into the crook of her arm, its heartbeat steady against her sleeve. Mabel closed her eyes, listening to the quiet.
Mabel opened her eyes and looked down at the sprout. It stood straight and proud in the golden light, a single point of green in the grey world. She smiled. The pigeon let out a soft coo, and together they watched the square wake.
