A/N: Better brace yourselves and grab a box of Kleenex, because this one is gonna break some hearts.

Listen to Sunday by Nikonn while you read, if you so choose. It's my inspiration for this piece, as you can tell just by looking at the title.

Enjoy the sad tale, everyone, and please review. Why am I so fond of these?

Sunday

It was morning on the day before Monday all across the globe of planet Earth, that twenty-four hour period that symbolized the conclusion of one week and the commencement of the next.

It was the last chance for social butterflies to leave their homes behind, on a mission to hit the streets and party.

It was the last chance for happily-married couples to take a trip to some fancy restaurant and engage in fine dining with their soul-mates.

It was the last chance for procrastinators to power up their laptops, flip open their textbooks, and finish their history assignments.

Long story short, it was the day on which every individual comprising the seven billion plus people that made up mankind took care of what was most important to him or her.

But this work of fiction will not be dealing with the bipedal masters of the third rock from the sun. No, it will examine the less-than-complete life of a lesser creature, one who is a victim of life's greatest injustice… and certainty.

Rotating the magnifying lens of our immense, heavenly microscope into place, let us peer into the objective lenses and zoom in on a particular metropolis stationed on the east flank of South America. Next, let us target a finely-crafted two-story house in the northwest sector of the city, on the outskirts of the bustling haven. And for the last stage of our examination, let us gaze through a clean rectangular window on the lower story, into a pleasantly-lit living room that held our creature in question.

That very bird was a female Spix's Macaw, an aged, half-stunning specimen who was all by her lonesome self.

Soft, plushy material covered the chair she was dozing in, the fabric gentle upon her ruffled feathers. She had propped herself up against the back of the chair, her tail flowing out in front of her and draping over the edge. Her feet were relaxed and limp, her wings hanging lazily at her sides.

The random popping of the fireplace mingled with the steady sound of her breathing, though her inhalations and exhalations were languid and deep. It was to be expected from a bird who had witnessed as many sunrises and sunsets as she and lived through dozens of cheerful birthdays and anniversaries.

But she was a resilient macaw by the name of Jewel, born and raised decades ago in the unforgiving jungles encircling Rio. Perhaps that was one reason why she had achieved fifty-five years of age… and had outlasted the beholder of her heart.

She was once the envy of every female and had easily caught the romantic eye of her partner, but her appearance had long since become tarnished.

Her feathers had stopped replacing themselves twelve months ago, leading to irregular patches of skin being shown here and there. Her strength and stamina had decreased by a modest amount; there were some days when she was fit enough to stay awake and others where her tired body stayed asleep much longer than usual.

It was clear that life had become difficult for her, and her fall from grace could most likely be attributed to the passing of her mate ten years prior.

There had been no darker period in her existence than that, and in the wake of his unfair death, her depression had never truly been cured. She knew it had been a quick and painless termination, but that was little consolation to her forever-broken heart. In fact, what wounded her the most was that she wasn't given the chance to say goodbye to her lover.

They had drifted off together one night, content to be next to each other, and by the next morning, he was simply gone.

There was no breath cycle or heartbeat to be found, his valiant soul having fled sometime before he greeted the new day. Such a tragedy nearly coerced Jewel to take her own life just to reunite with him, and no one would have blamed her.

But through the emotional support lavished onto her by their offspring and her human companions, Jewel pulled through and did her best to move on in his perpetual absence.

Her mate, Blu, was the most sensational and loving macaw she had ever encountered, and by losing him, she had lost a part of herself. He had given her all the children she ever wanted, all the compliments she ever deserved, and all the affection she ever craved.

He was so selfless, always putting his needs above hers except when she demanded high and low for him not to, to allow her to do something for him. In the months and days before his life force was extinguished, she could tell his age was taking its toll on him, but he refused to let it get him down.

His charming personality remained the same, whether it was his timid nature showing when they did something new in the company of strangers or his courage when it came to defending her in the face of a threat.

Looking back, her eyes watered when she thought of his bravery despite his failing health.

He probably knew he was dying, but he had kept that secret from her, wanting to ensure her happiness and spare her feelings. But she didn't hold his choice against him, as he always meant well in word and deed.

Everything Jewel had known had all changed on the fateful day ten years ago, and she had lost count of the times she had wished for him to come back, to miraculously appear and welcome her into open wings.

But he never did.

That being said, the scars upon her soul were too deep to heal, each day a solemn reminder of how Nature had reclaimed what was rightfully hers. Oh how she longed for the power to dive back into the past and relive the good times, but such a thing was not possible.

There was no going back to the way things once were, and Jewel found herself increasingly lost without her mate to guide her. Her visits to the middle-aged humans Linda and Tulio decreased in frequency before stopping altogether.

Her heart told Jewel there was no positive benefit from seeing them, as she would only experience their sorrow and regret on her behalf. Even worse was the fact that Jewel's bonds with her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren – yes, her genetic line was that extensive – had become very much strained.

They had mourned the loss of Blu for a time, but then had absconded elsewhere to live their lives, some even departing Rio altogether. Jewel knew not one day went by where they did not honor Blu's spirit in one form or another.

She still loved them with all her heart, no matter where they had gone, and how could she doubt that they loved her equally?

A small part of her prayed for any number of them to find her and comfort her, but she had gone without contact for over five months. She missed them dearly and hoped to one day encounter them, but she drew the will to carry on with her own existence by treasuring them in her mind.

Jewel was indeed disconnected from the world beyond the walls of Linda's home, but she was too forlorn to care. She was forsaken to sadness while the other thousands of birds inhabiting Rio continued to enjoy life, and she could not bear the mockery.

She wanted no one to pity her or fuss over her, and so she decided to lock herself away and tackle her plight on her own. For a whole year she had resided in that very house, venturing out only to find sustenance or escape being discovered by Lind and Tulio.

They had not flashed their faces for a whole three months, but she did not seek the answer as to why. She preferred it that way, to be honest. She was free to reminisce in solitude, dream of Blu when she was asleep, and actively think of him when she was awake.

She could not deny that it felt strange to be in her situation, as she was the only living thing residing in that comfy abode and had no one to interact with. And so she occupied herself by napping, contemplating, and dwelling on the wonderful times she shared with Blu when he was alive.

She gained a more profound understanding of herself in the process, realizing why Blu's love never wavered in their forty year relationship and how much she meant to him. She had always loved him too, no matter how many arguments they had or how many rough spells Fate tossed their way.

Even if he wasn't physically with her anymore, she would never forget him and let his memory be cast into the shadows. Jewel didn't believe in the supernatural as Blu did, but she did have faith in the fact that his invisible spirit dropped by every so often.

What else could explain the sudden bursts of warmth that bubbled up inside her on the gloomy days when she grew downcast or the whispers of misplaced wind that blew across her cheeks when she was on the verge of crying?

She would often hear quiet noises echoing through the house that reminded her of wing beats, or, when she took to walking around to flex her muscles, the pit-pat of tiny feet upon the wooden floor that were separate from hers.

There was no question that Blu was hanging around, right by Jewel's side, as he had always been.

It was his way of saying, "Jewel, I'm here for you, and I will never leave you."

He had always referred to her as an "angel," and now that he had become her invisible guardian, the thought always put a smile on her face.

She concluded that he watched her constantly, trailing her wherever she went, and Jewel was glad that he would do so for the rest of her days. It was as if he was waiting for her to slip away and jump into the next life, waiting for her to soul to flee the world and seek his out, so that they could be bound to each other for all eternity.

Whether her last breath would come soon or not-so-soon, she would enjoy every minute of the final chapter of her life, knowing that her mate was tending to her every waking moment. And when her violet hour did come to a close, she would let go and pass on without any regrets, knowing that Blu was ready to greet her with navy wings spread wide.

I opened my eyes dreamily and yawned, checking the room and making sure nothing was out of place… or if the house was on fire. Everything appeared exactly as I had left it the day before, so I got to my feet and fluttered off the chair.

A short spasm of pain raced from my left foot to my brain as I landed heavily, and I winced. I picked the hurting foot up, flexing and relaxing my claws a few times to cure the stinging. When it finally went away, I set my foot down gently and shot my gaze over to the fireplace.

Only a few of the twigs were on fire; the others were either smoldering, or had been turned to ash. I limped over to the right of the fireplace, up to the chest-high pile of dry sticks I had gathered as fuel.

I grabbed a long, skinny one with my beak, quickly and carefully setting it down inside the stone pit, as I didn't want to risk becoming fuel myself. No, that was hardly the way I wanted to go.

I did the same with five others, and by that time the flames had grown tall and wide, pouring waves of heat into the room. The crackling and popping if the branches increased in frequency; I found myself mesmerized by the dancing tongues of orange and yellow.

I stared endlessly into the shifting sheets of color, seeing all sorts of made-up shapes appear and disappear with each passing second. A particularly loud snap issued from the fire, startling me, and a red-hot ember decided to liberate itself at the same time.

It landed so close to my foot that the heat grabbed my attention.

"Whoa! Shoot!"

I wouldn't dare stomp on it and burn my skin, so I did the next best thing: I spit on it. The ember hissed and smoked as my saliva cooled it off and rendered it harmless, and I chucked it back where it belonged.

There was a blackened spot on the oval rug I was standing on, and rubbing it did not remove it. I sighed.

"Oh well. Nothing I can do to fix it now."

I scooted up and bathed myself in the penetrating warmth of the natural furnace, contemplating how I was going to spend my day. I leaned my head down, falling deep into thought, my eyes fixated on my chest.

I noticed black specks clinging to my feathers here and there, and oddly enough, their numbers seemed to grow the longer I looked.

Why am I so dirty? Huh. That's weird. I haven't been outside in three days. Maybe I should go take a bath and clean up. Yeah, that sounds nice.

My mind made up, I turned around and made for the hallway on the other side of the living room. Something happened as I crossed the invisible line separating the two and approached the bathroom door.

I came to a halt and watched as the ivory door slowly opened on its own, without a sound.

When a gap large enough for me to fit through was made, it stopped moving, just like that. I wasn't freaked out, because I knew who was responsible.

Thanks, Blu. I'm glad you're still here with me…

I waddled into the bathroom and used my wings to push the door nearly shut, so that I wouldn't have to waste time and energy turning the handle to get out. I could've left it wide open, but my subconscious wanted me to have privacy in an empty house.

It makes no sense, but hey, it's how I am, and how I've always been.

I jumped onto the edge of the shiny, square-shaped, white tub and dropped down, a few steps taking me to the water control knobs. It hadn't taken me too many tries to figure out how they worked. The one on the left made hot water flow and the one on the right made cold water flow.

Finding the balance between them to create very warm, refreshing water was easy as pie.

But before I reached for them, I pushed the golden metal thing on the floor of the tub down, sealing off the hole underneath. I then went into a hover and turned the left knob halfway, and a thick stream of water came shooting out of the faucet.

Clouds of steam rose up all around me, and so I quickly turned the right knob halfway as well. I touched down on the rim of the tub again and dipped my toe into the bubbling fluid. It was too hot for me to stand, so I crouched down and waited for the temperature to drop.

A minute later I tested it again, and it was nice and toasty.

I inhaled a breath of humid air and plopped into the water, submerging myself up to my stomach. I had turned the water off at this point and used the tub like a birdbath before, but the showerhead would make things much easier.

I waded over to the faucet and stretched my neck to grab the knob on top of it, trying my best to avoid dunking my head into the jet blasting out. I jerked upwards, and the faucet stopped puking.

The showerhead mounted high on the wall above me sprang to life, a circular curtain of invigorating mini-jets squirting from it. I ambled backwards and immersed myself in it, feeling it soak my feathers and tickle my skin.

I then began to preen myself heartily, planning to start with my tail and end with my upper body. I alternated between nibbling my plumage with my beak and scrubbing it with my wings, hoping I wouldn't dislodge any more feathers.

I was surprised at the amount of debris that I set free, and I worked that much more diligently to ensure I would be spotless when I was done. My back and wings took the longest, but I didn't rush myself.

I preened at a steady pace and finished the job in a few minutes. My belly and chest were next, and I focused on the parts of my neck I could reach. Lastly, I gave my face a short washing, feeling satisfied with the improvement of my appearance.

To my dismay, however, one of my primaries had come loose, as had a few neck feathers.

There was now a bald spot where my neck met my chest, my wrinkly pink skin showing through. I shook my head pitifully, as that area would never heal. Gluing the useless feathers to the wall of the tub, I shut off the water and opened the drain.

With great effort, I pulled my soaked body out and flopped onto the mat like a fish. The greenish towel I had used to dry myself many times previously was right there next to me, and so I used my beak to wrap it around me.

I shook myself inside it and lay down, rolling around like a worm. I had worn myself out by the time all the water had been transferred to the towel, and so I spent more time than necessary in the bathroom as I waited to get my stamina back.

Being so old, my strength faded much faster than it used to, and maybe it also had something to do with the fact that Blu wasn't here to empower me. When I had beat back my lethargy, I squirmed out from under the fabric and exited the sauna-like space.

As I waddled my way for the living room, my stomach gurgled so loud that I could hear it. I placed my wing on my midsection, and the vibrations ran though my bones.

Oh man, I'm so hungry. Better eat something and give myself an energy boost…

I hobbled on and turned left from the den to enter the kitchen, as there was no wall to separate the two areas. My beak watered slightly as I eyed the plant-themed bowl on the table, where I stashed the fruit I had harvested.

I spread my wings in preparation to take off, but I heard a shuffling sound as the bowl slid to the right an inch or so. Without warning, a mango tumbled out and hit the wood with a dull thud.

Thankfully, it didn't fall off and splat on the ground, rocking back and forth a few inches away from the end of the table.

A wonderful choice Blu, since mangoes have always been my favorite food. Thank you.

I sailed up and retrieved the firm object, gliding over to the rug in front of the hearth. I tucked my legs beneath me and crouched down, scooping out a beakful of the mango.

I held it there without chewing for a short while, savoring the taste of the tangy juices that covered my tongue. With each bite the effect was renewed, another addition of ripe insides replacing the portion I had swallowed.

Just the one mango left me feeling very full, my stomach having shrunken over the years and unable to stretch to hold more food. After using the flames to keep me warm while I digested my meal, I looked around at the empty house and realized I had nothing to do.

Well, nothing to do until I thought of something to do, that is.

A spider crawling on the ceiling caught my attention, but then my eyes were drawn to the rectangles of wood on top of the stony fireplace. I lofted up to where they were perched and instantly recognized the row of six framed photos.

Three of them showed Blu and Linda doing things when they were both many years younger. The fourth showed a teenage Blu smiling at the camera after drinking out of a cup of hot chocolate, a brown stain on the edge of his beak.

But the last two were more special to me than all the other ones combined.

The fifth showed a serene Blu interacting with our first three children.

One son was huddled against Blu's belly and looking up at his father, the other laying on Blu's head with his eyes closed, probably laughing. Blu's eyes were peering down at our daughter, who was snoozing in his wings with her head buried in his chest.

The sixth was a picture of Blu all by himself in a proud, confident pose, dressed in the fancy tuxedo he had worn on our wedding day.

The updrafts rising from the fire were heating up everything past my legs, and so I clutched the next-to-last photo with my claws and sailed over to the chair to escape the uncomfortable sensation. I sat back down in the same position I had used to sleep, propping the picture up in front of my legs and tilting it just right to remove the glare from the dust-free glass.

Blu looked so handsome and protective, showing the proper devotion of a father to his offspring. The longer I stared at the four creatures, their bodies frozen in time, I felt an emptiness growing inside me.

It was the same cold pit that opened up the day after Blu died, the dreadful and lonely first day of the rest of my life without him. The longer I stared at the four creatures, the more I began to realize what I and the three macaw chicks had lost: a loving mate and a superb father, respectively.

Blu looked so real, as if I could stick my wing through the glass and feel the softness of his feathers. But he was only a memory on a piece of paper, a snapshot of a macaw that had been carried away long ago on the sands of time.

My eyes were riveted to him, even though my mood was cracking under the strain.

My eyes began to water and pour forth salty tears, and I clenched my beak to hold back my sobs. But my beak muscles were too frail, and my broken whimpers escaped anyways. My tears splashed onto the chair in an uneven rhythm, and yet I was still focused on the photo.

"Oh Blu… why did you have to leave me so soon? We were supposed… to die together. You promised we would… you promised you would stay with me… until the very end. Why did… you break… your promise?"

My tired mind ran through the words I had said, and I immediately regretted them.

"Blu… I'm sorry… I shouldn't have said that. You didn't mean… to break your promise. You were just too old… and you couldn't… make it. It wasn't… your fault…"

I broke down even more, turning my head to the right and smashing it into the fabric. I cried so loud that my voice went hoarse, hitting the back of the couch with my wing several times in despair. I ended up choking as my wails caught in my throat, forced to pull my head back so I could breathe.

After practically coughing my lungs out, I hid my face in my wings and mourned quietly, my body shivering from the exertion. I peeked from between my wings and gazed at my late husband, sniffling twice in a row.

"Blu… I need… your help. I need you… to keep… me strong. Please…"

A few seconds later, I felt a searing pain rip across my chest as if I had been slashed with a sword. I doubled over and began to wheeze, my legs twisting beneath me. I lost my balance and pitched onto my side, my eyesight going dim despite the burning beneath my skin.

Was my overworked heart going into spasms as it beat its last?

Fear took hold as I lost consciousness, my last words being "Blu… am I… dying?" before the blackness pulled me under.

When I came to, the first things I picked up on were that my metabolism was calm, my pain-free heart was still thumping inside me, and my eyes were dry. Lifting my head, I noticed that the picture had been knocked over and was now face down.

Blu had done it to spare me when I woke up, disowning himself so that I wouldn't be driven to cry.

The angle of the thin sunbeams cascading through the curtained windows seemed steeper now, meaning that a few hours must have passed. It was probably noon, or very close to noon, as far as I could tell.

My mood was still pitiful as I retrieved the item and replaced it where it belonged. When put into situations like these, where Blu's absence sent me spiraling into an ocean of anguish, no amount of sleep would rescue me from the depths and bring me into the light.

I inhaled and exhaled mournfully, the sooty, spicy smell of the air burning my nostrils. I usually lit candles to prevent the fireplace from filling the house with its odors, but I had forgotten to do so today.

I took off and glided into the kitchen, landing on the table and scanning around for the box of matches. I didn't see it right away, so I walked across the table and paused near the edge. I looked to my right and couldn't see it, but then I looked the other way and finally found it.

It was right up against the fruit bowl, trying to hide from me. I opened it up and plucked out a match, using the rough strip on the side to light the stick in my beak. I waddled quickly over to the short wax candle and lit the wick, blowing the match out before it burned me.

I did the same for the two candles mounted to the hallway wall, the one on the end table to the right of the recliner, and the two nestled on the mantle. The creatures in the photos cast their static stares upon me, never looking in any other direction but to the very root of my soul.

I sighed and flapped over to the window, landing on the sill and spreading the curtains wide. Sunlight streamed in and formed a neat rectangle upon the carpet, coating me from head to tail with its golden warmth.

I closed my eyes for several seconds and let it heat my body, and then blinked them open. There wasn't any jungle to be seen, just a straight road lined with houses. No humans were visible, the chugging of motorcycles and cars absent. It was certainly a picturesque day, one not to be wasted sitting indoors and doing nothing.

But I have my reasons as to why I wasn't leaving this place.

I sunned myself for a few more minutes, the scents of spicy cinnamon and smooth French Vanilla spreading through the air like a cloud. I was perfectly at ease in this seventh heaven of mine, not a single worry or dark thought in my mind.

That urge to reminisce grabbed me, and I took myself back to the mantle. I selected the last snapshot and drifted to the ground with it, standing it up neatly. I grabbed the frame with my wings and brought it closer, locking eyes with my mate.

How handsome he looked, his beak curved into the smile of a happy husband.

I ran one primary down the glass and whispered, "Blu, when will I get to see you again? Hold you again? Kiss you again?"

There was no answer as my voice dropped off, and I set the item down neatly. My heart skipped a beat, and I began to feel tired. I breathed in and crouched onto my legs, hoping it would go away.

It didn't, and a strange kind of calmness I had never felt before swept through me.

I lay down on the rug and held Blu's gaze as I grew even drowsier, my heart missing another beat. I embraced the realization that I was dying, ready to face the music and see what the next life had to offer.

I knew that when I let go, Blu would be waiting for me, and that was all the security I needed. My body began shutting down, most notably my heart, the time between each beat growing longer and longer.

Life was certainly precious, but for someone like me, death was also wonderful in its own way.

It was time for me to leave my body behind and fly with Blu in the world beyond this world. What greater freedom could I possibly ask for than freedom that lasted for an eternity?

"I love you, Blu. We've been apart for so long… but now… we'll be together… forever…"

I failed to stop my eyelids as they slid halfway down over my eyes, and moments later, my heart ceased to beat.

I inhaled my final tender breath, exhaled it, and then cut the chains that connected my soul to my body. My vision went black as I lost consciousness, and a split-second later, I was already far away, so very far away.

And I was never coming back.

The sight was enough to bring tears to the eyes of whoever grew curious and peeked into the room through the square glass window.

A lonely female macaw, in all her degraded beauty, lay on the floor, her eyes half closed and a smile frozen on her beak. She was paralyzed by the embrace of death, never to move or think or feel again.

But that was only her empty shell, as her soul was long gone. It goes without saying that she was righteous enough to have earned a place in whatever higher realm existed for the departed.

Our microscope is now useless, as Jewel has crossed a certain line into a world beyond technology.

But surely, somewhere up there, higher than the birds and the clouds and the planes, she was cradled in the wings of her ethereal mate, never to leave his side.

Though this story has reached the ultimate end, the situation of our main character is quite the opposite. The years leading up to her passing served only as the prelude to her saga, the tip of the metaphorical iceberg.

Her first life, full of loss and hope and love and sorrow, may have concluded, but as a matter of fact, it was only just beginning.

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