Scintilla (noun): a tiny trace or spark of a specified quality or feeling

The little green bird perched in a cemetery today.

This morning, it had spotted an ordinary man, walking out of a building, eating a donut… and suddenly, night fell and it was watching his body get lowered into the soft earth. Despite the warm green feathers coating its body, an ominous chill seeped through the little bird’s bones.

Death.

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So abrupt. So unexpected.

The most frightening of all was the lack of reason. Why had he died so suddenly? In the little bird’s observations, the traffic around the area wasn’t bad, so not a car accident. Did he have an unseen disease? Maybe a murder?

Its small heart convulsed with the mystery never to be solved.

From its perch on the solemn tree, the little green bird offered its silent condolences as the moonlight washed over the man’s face for the final time. The cold gray slab of his headstone and the grave black suits of the funeral servicemen offered no answer to the bird’s pondering.

An obscure yet insignificant emotion wormed in the little bird’s mind, a sour mixture of regret, shame, and sadness.