The Romance of Beans by Matthew Roen Mr.

Pinto was a handsome hunk, often to be found whiling away his days at the bottom of a tin can, embedded in a sunshiny-beach. He liked to watch the seagulls swoop by, overhead, and hear their glorious exclamations as they did. He loved those birds, and liked to spend his days in awe of them. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like, to be a seagull. Aloft, outside of this tin can, full-fleshed with active muscles and a circulatory system. He couldn’t imagine a horizon line that didn’t loop around above him, like an ominous, ribbed circlet of darkness, that stretched down to his petit circular enclosure. He couldn’t imagine the full-throated roar of the sky, as the birds whizzed and spun and looped gracefully through the air, the ocean breeze creating a cacophony of ruckus in their tiny avian heads, driven wild with the abandonment, the gloriousness, the freedom of the thing. In fact, he couldn’t imagine period, for he was just a bean.

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