Would you like this expanded into a full one-act, a spoken word piece, or a short film shooting script?

They work in silence. The pigeon flies out through the skylight.

That wasn’t art. That was rent in plaster.

She picks up her wood and knife again. Begins to carve a tiny hand.

She gestures to a hole in the roof. A pigeon coos.

Leo. I’m not going to be here next winter.

Maya smiles—the first real one in weeks.