The birds didn’t quite understand what happened to him. They continued their chat on the branch near his windowpane, talking about his neighbor who just happened to meet some people-of-interest at the ball. He listened to them with half of his attention, the other half focused on the smoke slowly slithering out of his pipe.

The air was clear. He could see the crystalline structures of the sky when he extended his head out of the window. He could feel the smooth texture of the wind blowing gently on his face. The colorful Persian-patterned tiles under his arms were getting warm, making the limbs swell. The yellow pages of an unnamed book were fluttering beside him how it was more erudite than him. He shrugged. Another line of smoke was streaming in the sky.

He turned away in boredom. The clear afternoons had nothing to do with his life. The book continued to boast, and the birds continued to shutter. The blooming flowers beside him were asking if he wanted to hear them sing about waves of the ocean. He could not be more annoyed. Flowers couldn’t even root in the hot, sandy beaches. They only danced with the wind. If there was no wind, then they wouldn’t even know how to dance. Many shared a connected disinterest in their soulless pretty faces, but the mayor really wanted them around. The tiles were getting hotter and hotter under the burning sun. His arms were swelling so much that liquid began to flow off it. He listened to the wind chimes hanging off the window. They sang better than the birds.

A faint knock was on his door. He dragged his arms and legs to get it. It was his neighbor, holding a large wooden container. Her curved goat horns were always decorated with excessive gold and jewelry, some dangling down like the wind chimes by his window, always singing so beautifully in the wind. She placed the container on the ground and nearly screamed. He told her to be quiet, or she would disrupt the music, but she just wouldn’t listen. She then ran away after triggering his slight annoyance.

The town mayor was here with his neighbor. The golden ornaments hanging from her horns were not singing as beautifully as before. The mayor brought a magnifying glass and went inside. The middle-aged man repeatedly grumbled about the wet floor. However, he blamed it on the mayor’s clumsiness and the smoothness of his Persian tiles, something the mayor could not understand.

The mayor placed the magnifying glass to his face, then to his arm, then to his legs, while he stared outside the window, thinking if he should interrupt the birds and tell them stop gossiping about his neighbor. Fearing she might hear them, he turned to observe her expression. But she was clearly more concerned with his arms then with the birds. The mayor was still fumbling with the magnifying glass in the afternoon hot currents. He really thought the mayor was here for the flowers.

His arm began to glisten under the afternoon sun, as more liquid began to flow down, dripping onto the beautifully crafted Persian tiles. The mayor showed a frustrated expression, and signaled to his neighbor, who then ran out of the room, the gold chains singing in harmony with the wind chimes. Under the magnifying glass, the mayor could surely see the small pockets of glimmering transparent coldness on his skin, which were clearly spreading with time. Water began to seep through the small pockets. The mayor looked at him, but he was still concerned with his Persian tiles and the wind chimes.

The neighbor was back with a doctor. The doctor had a strong smell of a mixture of different brands of disinfectants. The doctor took out an iron hammer and knocked on his arm. All of them, except him, could hear the crackle under his skin. But he was still concerned with the birds and if the neighbor would hear their chatter. The doctor hit his arm again. The same crackling noises. Water began to flow more quickly, out of the pockets on his arms, legs, and neck. A large pile of wetness was under the chair which he was sitting in. The doctor than took out a thermometer and placed it on the arm, which was still glistening under the afternoon Sun. When he looked at the markings on the thermometer, it read negative Celsius degrees.

The water began to flow quicker and quicker, but he didn’t seem to notice. He was still staring at the birds, the flowers, the book, wondering if they knew what was beyond the crystalline structure of the sky. The water was dripping off the chair, off the windowpane, off the sill, onto his much-cherished Persian tiles. The pockets on his naked skin grew larger and larger, until his whole arm began to glisten under the afternoon Sun. The limbs were thinner and thinner as the reflection of sunlight grew stronger. Water began to ooze out of his eyes. His figure diminished as more and more liquid began to flow in all directions onto the ground, washing the tiles. The sparks of light could be seen everywhere. The doctor, the neighbor, and the mayor, standing in a puddle of water, stared at him in awe. The water flowed and flowed. His limbs shrank away, leaving only his torso and his head, which was still staring out of the window.

The doctor started to read off the emergency booklet. The mayor started to clean the garden for the flowers. The neighbor was still standing in front of him, with her beautiful golden jewelry. He was still melting away. The torso was much smaller. The water beneath was flooding his house. The water flowed in little rivers and canals, mapping out the Amazon and the Nile and the Mississippi and the Yangtze. His torso quickly diminished into the rivers, leaving only his head, still stubbornly staring out of the window.

The mayor and doctor were back, staring at him with the neighbor. His head was turning transparent. The light refracted shined onto the Persian tiles, highlighting their crackles, which were already submerged. Then, the transparent head was half of its size, then forth, then eighth, then sixteenth. The water was so much that now the mayor, the doctor and the neighbor were standing in a cold, knee-deep pond. He continued to melt, until only two eyeballs were left glimmering in the sun. Then one of them melted away. The other followed suit.

What was left was a house flooded with water from every lake, every river, every canal, and every ocean in the world. Inside the house, the mayor, the doctor, and the neighbor were still standing in the freezing water that submerged the Persian tiles. Outside the window, the birds still carried on their gossip about the neighbor with goat-horns, the book was still boasting about the knowledge it had, the flowers were still dancing in the wind, and the wind chimes were still singing in harmony with the neighbor’s gold ornaments.