Dawn opens the door to Hamilton’s cage and useds her hand to gently stroke his talons. Hamilton was bestowed to her by her best friend’s family member. May’s great-aunt was an old, peculiar, lady but she always seemed to have the best intentions.

The parrot stepped onto her hang and she guided him to her shoulder.

“Are you hungry?” She coos as she strokes his beak.

“Nom Nom!” He chirps back.

She gently gives him fresh carrot that she set aside from cooking dinner. He’d been accustomed to receiving snacks when he heard her making food at dinnertime. Even the sound of the fridge opening would peak his interest and would become restless in his confinement.

As he chomped away at the crunchy vegetable, she rustled his neck feathers lightly and walked back to the kitchen counter. Stirring the food in her simmering pot, Hamilton chips again.

“Coques Celia” he squawks.

Dawn, puzzled, sets her spoon down and hands him another carrot. “Nom nom” she says and he repeats.

She thinks to herself about all the weird things he’s been saying lately and how her friends great-aunt must have taught him these things before she gifted him. Was he speaking a different language? She took Spanish in high school but this sounded more Latin to her.

She suddenly realizes that the pot is now at a rolling boil and checks the temperature on the stove.

“Strange.” She says. “It’s set to simmer.” She removes the pot from the burner and turns the dial down until the flame is completely off.

“Nascor ” Hamilton squawks and rustles his wings, rocking back and forth on his feet. The sharp claws digging in her shoulder as he settles.

The pot of soup begins to look foggy, almost like a fog machine had been turned on. The pot of soup now looks like Halloween decoration and Dawn is puzzled as she watches this pot slowly bubble and produce a rolling mist.

“Did you just say NASCAR?” She asks rhetorically.

As she walks him back to his cage, she ponders the absurdity that is happening in her kitchen. She guides her shoulder to his perch, then latches the door once he is perched.

Walking back to the stove, she pulls out her phone to call her best friend. She uses the spoon to stir her soup as it is still bubbling and foggy, even with no heat.

“Hey babes!” Her friend May answers after a second call rings through.

“Heeeeey” Dawn responds warily. “So, you’re not going to believe this…”

“Try me. You’ve said some crazy shit before so I’m prepared for anything.” Her friend chuckles.

“Well, no, even by my standards… I don’t know. I don’t even believe what I’m seeing…”

“Whats going on? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, of course, I just… my soup is weird. It looks like a cauldron, May…”

“Must be good soup!”

“May, it’s bubbling and not even on the heat! There’s like, a fog coming off of it!”

“Oh… Man, I told her not to give you that bird.”

“What does that mean?” Dawn demands, taking insult to what he friend said.

“I’ve got to call my aunt. Can I call you back?”

“Sure, but what does that even mean?!”

There is no response and Dawn looks at her phone. May hung up without telling her anything more. What would a parrot have to do with her soup acting strangely?

She uses towels that were hanging on the oven handle to pick up the pot and gently pours out soup into the sink. The bubbling and fog die down but now she stares at clumps of noddles and vegetables that seem wasted. What else was she to do? Let it keep… doing whatever it was doing?

Her phone rings, it’s May again.

“That was fast.” Dawn answers.

“I haven’t told you but my aunt is a witch.”

“And you say that *I* say the most ridiculous things…”

“Seriously, Dawn!” She scoffs

There is silence on both ends of the line.

“That’s why your soup was doing that. You said yourself it looked like a cauldron…”

“May, what does my soup have to do with possible witchcraft?”

There is silence again before it clicks in Dawn’s head. She peaks into the living room where Hamilton’s cage is and watches him groom himself before stopping to look in her direction.

“So you’re telling me…” She says softly.

“Yeah.” May replies.

“Come get this bird.”

Then she hangs up the phone.