Glower (verb): to stare angrily

“You gotta hear me out, okay?”

The little green bird jolted. A brown-haired woman with teary hazel eyes was staring up at it, with so much intensity that it seemed like she wanted to swallow the bird alive with her gaze.

The green bird didn’t move, but scanned her up and down, moving only its eyes and not its head.

No headphones, earbuds, airpods. No phone. No person behind her. The swaying ripples of the trees and the occasional squirrel were the only sounds around them.

“Alright, lemme just think of where to start…” Her voice trailed off as she frowned, stroking a hand with her chin.

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She was talking to the bird, then.

Before the little green bird could make a move, the woman’s eyes shot up and stared at it again—the solid focus was enough to make the bird shrink into itself. It kept still, keeping its breathing as neutral as possible and looking away with an ever-birdlike expression.

“I wasn’t that mad,” she said quickly. “Well, okay. Maybe I was. But I didn’t mean to make her cry. I only yelled once or twice.”

The bird might as well be one of the silent stones on the ground. It had truly no idea what was going on.

“Ugh! Stop looking at me so angrily. I know I was kinda unreasonable but I wasn’t that bad.” Her hazel eyes brimmed with moisture, making them clearer than before.

Not even a feather moved.

“Fine! I'll apologize!” She yelled defiantly at the bewildered little bird and stormed out of the woods, wiping away tears and slapping away branches as she ran.

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