The Bird on the Balcony
I’m sitting here, trying to think of something to write, a great idea for a story…
But this bird keeps staring at me through the window.
Seriously, a bird is staring through the window of my study, looking right at me.
What does it want? I don’t look like a bird, or anything that would be friendly to a bird. I don’t have any food on me; I never once gave it something to eat. We have a cat in the house who prowls around upstairs, so it shouldn’t be there in the first place.
Yet there it is, perched on the railing, staring at me with its beady little eyes, like I’m supposed to do something.
But what? Stare back at it? That’d be something odd, a staring contest with a bird. I know who’d win that. Hint: not me.
Am I supposed to stand up? Wouldn’t it fly away? What’s the point? It’s not doing anything, just staring.
And it’s very distracting.
Stop it! What do you want from me? Go away! I’m trying to work.
I mean it! Why are you looking at me like that?! Leave me alone!
The cat will get you if you stay there. Seriously, you’d better leave. Now.
OK, that’s it! Here I come…
Oh, look at that… It’s flying away.
Great, now I can get back to writing.
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“The Bird on the Balcony”…
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