"We're due for a refill," the hummingbird said.

Sylvia stammered, "Okay."

He had been coming to the feeder outside her kitchen window all summer, perhaps this same bird for summers past. She'd always greet him if he perched while she was doing the dishes. Sometimes George would catch her babbling mundane things you'd say to a child under two. He'd laugh and tease her as if she were a silly middle-aged airhead.

The hummingbird had never acknowledged her though. She thought he was a bit standoffish or maybe just shy.