Crow

She staggered and fell onto the floor.

She felt light-headed. She was not used to being this way, seeing the world with such unusual vividness.

A minute earlier, she had been standing straight as ever. She had a faint notion that she was where she had intended to be, and was created to be, but suddenly she felt the presence of an intrusion beyond herself and a presence detached from her mind. She could feel herself standing there, she could feel her own presence as if she had never done before. And as she did so, she felt an inkling to bend her knee, an awareness she did not have before.

She fell on the carpeted floor in a heap.

She knew no words. She could not speak.

Her limbs dangled from her torso. Her hand swung from the crooked nut it was screwed to. She lay there, in utter silence, for hours and hours until the sun rose, and the sidewalk was tap-tapping with boots and the roads rumbled with heavy vehicles rolling on their rocky surfaces. The man who owned the shop entered at roughly 9:07 am and was momentarily caught by surprise by the unusual sight.

He put down his belongings and reassembled her in a standing position as she had done so the previous night, and stood her exactly as he had done a week back when he changed her clothing.

She was in her place again. Her routine was back on. She continued observing people through the glass window as they passed by, and stared at them as they admired her clothes. She felt comforted by the attention. She felt at home. She felt as if her she was on the right path and her purpose known.

And then suddenly with a pang, she realized she could bend her knee once again, and as she did so, she allowed her knee to bend the way it had last night and she fell down in an assortment of parts on the ground.

That evening, as she watched the flustered shop-keeper lower the shutter over the glass window, having carefully mounted her parts one over another and promising himself to have the lady fixed first thing next morning, she felt curious. She wondered why she was conscious of her knee. She never had been this way before as it defied her purpose. But perhaps, she had misunderstood her purpose. Perhaps the same way as she could move her knee, she could move other parts of herself.

As she wondered so, a light breeze escaped inside the tiny room, and her leg slipped once more but as it did so, she was suddenly aware of her movement, suddenly aware of her limbs as they dangled in the air. Suddenly aware of her torso as it struck the ground sideways, and she noticed, to her utter amazement, could move her hand. She could swing it sideways, as if a pendulum. This profound realization made her heart beat in her ears.

She could not understand this. She knew her purpose. She could not understand why she was conscious of the ability to move her hand and knee. She could not understand that despite having a clear idea of where she belonged, she felt a longing to explore her new-found ability, and perhaps tap-tap her feet across the sidewalk as she so observed the people do so every day. No, she could never be. It was not her purpose.

She was designed to stand and watch.

But perhaps, if she could understand fully, she could know more.

And as she lay there, pondering and excited about the infinite possibilities, she barely noticed the sun rise and the cars rumble and roar over the roads. The shopkeeper entered the shop, and brought with himself a carpenter, who took a closer look at her lying on the ground -- between her joints, beneath her skirt -- and discovered that the screw responsible for her folly had loosened. He took out his screw driver, and casually tightened a few places and left the boutique.

The shopkeeper, pleased with himself, placed her again in her usual position and she realized, she could no longer move her knee.

And as this realization hit home, she became immensely happy for she finally, again, belonged. Her consciousness blended in with her world, and her abilities no longer exceeded her purpose.

END