Bite
There’s a bite of cheeseburger behind the trash can across the street. It’s funny the things you learn to notice when you’re starving. I can smell it, almost taste it. I started towards it, no hesitations. I may have lost my home, but dignity still abounded in me. I walked, no, strutted through the crosswalk to the bin. Some people caught my eye, and I made sure to catch theirs right back. I didn’t care. What were they gonna do? Send me home? Sequester me with my own kind, shoo me away? They wished.
I clawed at the burger, a bit of wrapper still clinging to it. Old cheese held it together while stale bread had soaked up any juices from the meat. No mold. No flies. Fair game.
The key to these rare treasures was to make them last. A crumb at a time, no matter how hungry I was, would keep me alive.
CLANG! A stone flew past my face into the trash can. I jumped, almost hitting the can myself. A boy’s laughter followed the rock, and another rock followed the laughter. This one skipped across the sidewalk, startling me again. The boy and some cohorts giggled while adults threw dirty looks their way… but nothing else. The boys began to close in, cornering me against the building. I clung to the burger, scared of starving, but also afraid of whatever this was.
From my left, bare feet began slapping the pavement, quickly getting closer. An old man, ragged and worn, began screaming nonsense at the boys. His gravelly voice strained and cracked, his fingerless gloves waved all around him. The tormentors were not outnumbered, but they were clearly out-crazied. You can’t throw rocks at pure lunacy. They tore around the corner of the building, presumably to find some other garbage can to waste time at.
The old man stopped and looked down at me. His eyes glanced at my treasure, my lifeline. I backed farther behind the trash can, clutching the wax paper. He lifted his hands in surrender, crouching slowly. “Shh, shh, it’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s alright. I have somethin’ for ya, little guy.” I cocked my head to the side. He slowly reached in his pocket and closed his fist around… something. When he pulled it out, I recognized the smell instantly. A small mixture of different nuts, seeds, bread crumbs, and maybe a little lint. My mouth watered. I let go of the burger and started pecking, no longer concerned about making it last.
The old man chuckled softly and began petting me from neck to tail, slowly and carefully. My feathers smoothed out at his touch. “You’re gonna be okay, little buddy.”
Matthew Davis-Brown is a music instructor in Orange Beach. Alabama. Though he enjoys teaching music, the power of words has always inspired him. He writes short stories, often searching for a unique perspective or a creative take on a mundane one. When he's tired of being creative, Matthew enjoys rewatching the same four shows, playing with his cats, and drinking coffee with his wife.