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Pigeons
Their wings rustled in the wind as I walked through the park.
He was waiting for me, resting his arms on the railing of the metal bridge.
His eyes reflected the water.
The birds landed by his feet, picking at the bread crumps.
I stopped in my tracks, hesitating.
I didn’t want to scare them. His eyes glanced at the small creatures.
Smiling, he was being very careful not to move.
I loved to watch him like this, so at peace.
He was an animal lover… For endless hours I would hear stories of his past dogs. And when we came to the part of their death he would glance away, a sadness stirring in his voice.
He seemed free now… Unburdened.
The pigeon picked at his shoe. Another sat by him on the railing.
He was so fascinated… The little necks twisted, looking at the still statue.
I stared for minutes, hours maybe.
Time always stood still in this park.
I approached closer and the closer I was, the more his image disappeared.
He looked at me… His face fading.
There was joy on these lips I knew so well… His hand reached out and I nearly ran.
My fingers grazed air. I stood by the railing, gripping the metal till my knuckles turned white. I tried to choke back a cry.
I felt a picking sensation on my shoe and glanced down. The pigeon looked back at me. I stepped aside, revealing the crump it was searching for.
The pigeon collected it and flew away.
I stared at the wings rustling in the sky and signed.
Time moved again and I kept on walking.
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