A short short story written by two people in just a few minutes: The day came when all birds died. It wasn't due to cold weather or extraordinarily violent circumstances, they simply ceased flapping their wings and landed on the ground, on top of buildings, or in large and sometimes not so large waterbodies. They littered the ground creating a maze through which a starving cat navigated. His ribs moved in unison beneath his tight skin. It would have been a feast if the birds had not crawled back to life inside its belly. It howled and purred and rolled in mud until out popped broken beaks and mangled wings. A glob of dirt and leaves danced about the famished creature. It pawed at them like a moth on the verge of life or death or perhaps the in between state which no one knows nothing about unless they too are wearing its cloak.