bird's eye view

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

based on a girl i saw a few years ago.

I watched her from knee-high cement fence sandwiching cracked sidewalk and the buzzing road. She was just pedaling up to the stop light on her bright pink bicycle, the one with the little white basket on front. She had mouse brown hair, wavy, with bangs. Today she wore a buttoned velvet skirt and a sweater. I was about to take flight, when her back tire popped and she skidded to a wobbly halt. I jumped a bit, cocked my head, stared at her. Inhaled. Was that rose perfume?

She huffed, hopped off her bicycle. That’s when she noticed me. The faintest smile crossed her pale pink lips. But I was just another raven to her. Maybe she’d even mistake me for a grackle or even a pigeon. But I knew her. I awaited her every afternoon as she rode to work. Followed her around the asphalt and pavement, the streaming lights and flickering street lamps, the warm cinnamon mobile restaurants and the gritty, dry chalk rubbing off the sidewalk. She was all I thought about.

I followed other people, too, but there was something about this one. Something about her rosy cheeks and chocolate eyes, her fly-away hairs on the top of her head, the way she bumbled about—I don’t know. Other animals do it, too. We follow you around, while you go about unaware. Unaware we admire you.

She waited for the stoplight. I flew up and perched myself on the street sign, doing what birds do. We hop about a bit. I didn’t want her to know I was there. If she did know, she would act different. I didn’t want different—I wanted to see her as she was, naturally, without distraction.

I followed her from a distance to the bike shop. She met a young man there, and they had their familiar banter outside the shop after he fixed the wheel. I saw how he looked at her. How she was just as unaware of the sparkle in his eyes as she was of my presence. When she left, I lingered a bit to watch the man. He went back inside, held the door, looked over his shoulder, sighed, went back inside. He was a quiet and shy one, but they got along just fine. Funny humans. So out of tune with their emotions and needs. They try to fill those desires instead with entertainment and greed and they forget what quenches their souls.

I watched her at night, when the lamps lit the muggy air, lit the pavements yellow. Her apartment was ground-level, albeit a couple of steps up. She flicked her hair away, caught sight of me. I was entranced by her arms, her shoes, her socks, one sliding down toward her ankle. But I was just another raven, and she disappeared, shutting the door with a quiet ch-chk.

What an intrigue, humans. What beautiful things. How much are they unaware of? I wonder endlessly of the potential of you creatures. You Really don’t know how valuable you are, do you? How many lives you can impact? What beautiful good you can do, what terrible disaster you can execute. You’ll never know how important you truly are. I pity you for that very reason.

But, lo—I’m just a raven. What do I know?


Submitted: December 14, 2020

© Copyright 2021 Aia Bunny. All rights reserved.

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