full of birds, swooping, diving. mitch runs to the door, throws it open.
less birds in the air now, the single flaming bird flying toward the drapes.
a shambles. windows broken, furniture knocked over, pictures askew, the floor covered with birds and broken glass. in a corner of the room, lydia crouches with her hands covering her face, sobbing. the burnt curtain is still smoldering. mitch is covered with soot. melanie puts down the broom wearily. the attack is over.
lydia is huddled in one of the easy chairs, still in shock.
it is silent. mitch looks across at lydia who sits as still as a stone in her chair. the door closes gently on a note of utter helplessness.
annie is lining the children up near the door leading to the play yard.
through the windows, we can see the waiting crows. one moves restlessly into flight, then settles on the equipment again.
as they all sit and accept their coffee. the room is silent except for the crackle of the fire. mitch rises to put more wood on the fire. in the dining room, the lovebirds still are chattering wildly. their chirping is the only sound in the house.
dead silent now. each of them is sitting on the edges of their chairs, waiting. there is the sudden sound of splintering glass.
mitch rises and puts more wood on the fire. the sound of the birds is still everywhere around the house. he looks at his watch. he rises, walks into the kitchen to check the back door. it seems all right. the camera follows him into the dining room. he stops at the cage with the lovebirds.