He’d been in prison a few weeks before he started feeding the birds. There weren’t any songbirds out in that wasteland, just ravens and scavenger birds. But it was better than nothing.
He saved a few breadcrumbs from his meager supper and left them on the cell’s tiny windowsill. The crows came and ate noisily, so he kept it up.
Eventually, the crows returned the favor and brought him presents. They were junk: string, pebbles, and bits of razor fence that he hid from the guards.
The other prisoners thought he was crazy until the birds brought him a key.

Thanks for reading! You can support me and find links to all my other work via my Linktree!