REFLECTION
by Bast
Susan Hill poured two fingers of scotch into a smudged kitchen tumbler and toasted
her budgie. "Merry, Christmas, Beird."
The bird watched her with a cocked head, round eyed stare. No cheeps, no little
hops of joy. She sighed. "We're never going to make any progress, the two of us,
are we?" The bird, by way of agreement, dropped a single green turd.
She had bought the parakeet on impulse, thinking he would be company; and the
perky little chirps that *most* birds made would cheer her. It had been her luck
to get an older, and evidently mute avian, who refused to play, refused to
bond, and refused to leave his cage. Her half-hearted attempts to teach him
to sit on her finger resulted in a trip to the drug store for ointment and
band-aids. He was so against the grain that she'd named him Beird--a combination
of bird and weird.
She sighed again and moved toward the window. Her life had been luckless for
awhile now. A slightly over the minimum wage job, an apartment in a building
whose halls smelled like a nursing home, nights of single dining and sleeping
alone. Still...it was better than the alternative.
Through the dirty window pane she watched the people passing by. It was snowing
now. There would be a white Christmas. She took another swallow of scotch and
her vision shifted, showing her her image--brown hair, blue eys behind contacts.
She stared a long minute, then lifted her glass to her twin.
"Merry Christmas, Alex."
End
by Bast
Susan Hill poured two fingers of scotch into a smudged kitchen tumbler and toasted
her budgie. "Merry, Christmas, Beird."
The bird watched her with a cocked head, round eyed stare. No cheeps, no little
hops of joy. She sighed. "We're never going to make any progress, the two of us,
are we?" The bird, by way of agreement, dropped a single green turd.
She had bought the parakeet on impulse, thinking he would be company; and the
perky little chirps that *most* birds made would cheer her. It had been her luck
to get an older, and evidently mute avian, who refused to play, refused to
bond, and refused to leave his cage. Her half-hearted attempts to teach him
to sit on her finger resulted in a trip to the drug store for ointment and
band-aids. He was so against the grain that she'd named him Beird--a combination
of bird and weird.
She sighed again and moved toward the window. Her life had been luckless for
awhile now. A slightly over the minimum wage job, an apartment in a building
whose halls smelled like a nursing home, nights of single dining and sleeping
alone. Still...it was better than the alternative.
Through the dirty window pane she watched the people passing by. It was snowing
now. There would be a white Christmas. She took another swallow of scotch and
her vision shifted, showing her her image--brown hair, blue eys behind contacts.
She stared a long minute, then lifted her glass to her twin.
"Merry Christmas, Alex."
End