|A Most Unusual Pigeon
Brent woke up to the sound of the city buzzing underneath his high rise apartment. New York was crazy any hour of the day, but the city that never sleeps had incredible residents. Brent met with some of these every morning. He rolled out of bed and automatically began complaining to nobody but himself about his back problems.
He walked to the kitchen and turned on the radio, kettle and toaster. Multigrain bread was supposed to help with his weight but Brent found when he looked in the mirror everyday nothing changed. He still had a round gut, and his chin was beginning to double. He was annoyed at his greying hair and dyed it to keep it jet black.
The toaster had finally finished cooking the bread, and the kettle was nearly boiled. Brent pulled a cup down from an overhead cupboard and placed a teabag inside. He began to butter the toast and plaster jam all over it while his tea was sitting on the bench.
Crunching his breakfast all over his face Brent made a mess of his kitchen crumbs everywhere. His tea was finally ready and he began to slurp it nosily. He had an hour to kill before he was ready for work and he decided to go out onto the porch. Feeding the pigeons was one of his favourite hobbies and for each pigeon that visited him, Brent gave them a name.
Felicity was his favourite. She was a most unusual pigeon. She would visit only in the morning at seven o’clock on the dot. It was now six fifty five. Brent sat on his old broken chair that could barely support his weight. The faded red chair was completely in the sun and Brent never felt more alive except when he was in the sun.
Seven o’clock arrived and right on schedule Felicity dropped down from the floor above. She was a strange pigeon. Almost like a human with a schedule that she had to keep. Brent smiled as he saw his strange but beloved pigeon. As usual Felicity wanted a feed and Brent went to the outside table to open the bird feed.
Felicity’s tail feathers were Brent’s favourite. He wondered if she would leave another one today. His collection grew weekly. Felicity flew over and rested on his arm beginning to feed ducking her head into his hand. Sure in a world full of problems Brent was at the bottom of the food chain. But now with his unusual pigeon he was happy.
Word count: 422
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