When the rooster finally stops eating, all of Aimee’s most precious objects are gone. The room has been thieved of its Aimee-ness, her essence absorbed into the bird’s body. He remains the same size as ever, while the walls sport lost-tooth gaps where band posters once hung. The concert is over. The crowd has all gone home, stumbled in clusters off the walls and sills and out from dresser drawers, straight into the rooster’s beak.
