The funeral was almost over when people heard the voice.
At first, everyone thought it was a person speaking.
But the voice sounded strange.
Almost… mechanical.
The priest stopped talking for a moment.
Then it came again.
“Good morning.”
People looked around in confusion.
The voice came from the back of the crowd.
That’s when someone noticed the bird.
A green parrot sitting quietly on a nearby tree branch.
Watching everything.
It suddenly spoke again.
“Good morning.”
A woman in the crowd suddenly gasped.
Her hands covering her mouth.
Because she recognized that voice immediately.
“That’s my father’s parrot,” she whispered.
Everyone slowly turned toward the bird.
The parrot tilted its head.
Looking directly toward the coffin.
Then it said something that made the entire crowd fall silent.
The same words the man had said to the bird every single morning.
“Good morning, my friend.”
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The man had owned the parrot for nearly twenty years.
Every morning he greeted the bird the same way.
“Good morning, my friend.”
Over time, the parrot learned to repeat the words.
Neighbors often laughed when they heard the bird answering him back.
But after the man passed away…
The bird had gone quiet.
No one heard it speak for days.
Until the funeral.
When the ceremony ended, the parrot flew down from the tree.
Landing gently on the wooden coffin.
It stayed there for a moment.
Looking around calmly.
Then it spoke one last time.
“Good morning.”
As if the bird believed its owner would still answer.
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