My owner loves me so much. When he wakes up, tired and dull, one look at me—and he smiles. When he hears my song, his tiredness fades away. Sometimes he opens my cage, lets me play in his hands, and sometimes, locks me for hours. Once, he freed me in an open ground. The air there— it felt so different from what I breathe inside the cage. But soon, he brought me back, locked me again, and took me home. One day, a girl came— afraid of birds. For days she visited, and when my owner let me out again, she screamed and cried. So he locked me— not for hours, but for a month. Then one morning, he took me outside again. He opened my cage. For a moment, I thought— Should I fly? Beyond seven seas, seven mountains, seven continents. I flew a little far. Then I looked back— he was crying, like his soul had left his body. Out of guilt, I returned. And again, he locked me in. Next day, he woke up tired— looked at me, smiled. Heard my voice, and his tiredness faded away.