2 of 2face for some time, her hands resting firmly on her hips. She shuffled over and stood infront of his one good eye, so the man could see her.“Hey mister,” she said. “Mister, why are you only feeding half the pigeons? Don’t youlike the others? Perhaps they were naughty or something.”The man lifted his gaze, wrinkled his brow, and replied, “Little girl, what do youmean? I get up early. I make the bread from only the finest homemade ingredients andthen crumble it into crumbs myself. I walk all the way across the city and seat myself here on this bench, which is rather hard and uncomfortable, let me tell you. I stay late tomake sure all the pigeons are well-fed and happy. I come here every Sunday morningfaithfully, rain or shine, and feed every single pigeon that I see. I know each one by sight.And I’ve been doing this for many years. So, how is it that you can say to me, ‘Why doyou feed only half the pigeons?’” The man said this with more than a hint of frustration atthe girl’s nosiness. He hoped she would go away. She was, after all, just a little girl.Yet, she persisted, like difficult little girls often do. “Mister, can I please, please,please feed the other pigeons? They look quite hungry!”The man was openly hostile now. “Aaarrgghh! What pigeons, little girl? Show me orgo away!” he shouted.So, the little girl scurried out of view and scooped up one of the birds. Then, with birdin hand, she once again appeared, as if by magic, in front of the man’s one good eye.The man, visibly shaken, surveyed the sight and sheepishly asked, “Little girl, wheredid you find that bird? I’ve never seen it before, and I know them all!”She cleared her throat and pointed. “Turn your head and look over there!”The man turned his head and, with his one good eye, spied a large group of pigeonsthat he’d never seen in all these years. The birds were crying out for bread crumbs. Thelittle girl ran back to her sandbox. The man dropped his head into his hands and wept.Then, quite suddenly, he remembered that he had one glass eye.
Copyright © Rad Zdero, email@example.com. All rights reserved.
Originally published in:
Summer Tapestry: Anthology of Short Stories
, Vancouver,Canada: Poetry Institute of Canada, ISBN 978-1-896965-91-1, 2008, p.32.
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