M. sees it! A bird going through the motions of what the others do - running quickly over tarmac; pecking briefly; hopping to grass like the others, pulling. But the creature really doesn't know what to do. It's not being a bird at all. The others see it moving about and because of this, none notice that the performance is a sham.
For three days, M. sits in the café window watching it, horrified, until it grows weak and one day drops its head and dies. It seems in some ways a mercy.
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