The sparrow pulled at the remnants of cake in the muffin wrapper. The chocolate stain on the circular paper framed the sparrow, accented its whiter points: flirting with ostentation, but pulled back by its size.
The little girl in the stroller, looking all of eighteen months, scrutinized the bird, discovered it, watched its pecking and swung her fat legs just slightly, in unrhythmic time to its eating.
The father sat, legs crossed, engrossed in a tightly lined paperback, oblivious to his daughter's progression and to her petite instructor.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment