“Holy shit,” Patrick says. I look over at him, but his focus is on something in the backyard. I follow his line of sight until . . . no. No way. “I’ll be damned,” I say quietly. “Is that . . . is that a fucking pigeon?” It is. It’s an actual pigeon. A real live white-and-gray pigeon just walking around in the backyard like this isn’t the most miraculous timing a bird has ever had in the history of birds.
