CRUMBS [a short novella]

Chapter 11: crouton

Flying was a lot faster than walking. Parker had to flap twice as hard to keep his starchy stomach afloat. His tummy grumbled with a thunderous roar. But the hunger for croissants, pretzels, pizza crusts and cookies were nothing in comparison for the hunger in his heart. For his little crouton Seto.

It wasn't about stopping Seto, or about changing her mind on leaving. But he wouldn’t let her go without being able to tell her he was sorry. Without being able to say goodbye.

He flew past the pretzel stands, and the taxi cabs. He soared above the fashionistas and the newspaper holding businessmen. How insignificant his day to day looked when he finally focused on something that mattered.

It was windy in the city and gusts of air would frequently knock Parker off balance. Years of being smacked around by newspapers and bread crumbs were finally worth something; they prepared him to withstand the blows of this wind. His feathers tickled and his eyes were alert. Parker mustered all he had, and cut through the eastern currents with every flap of his wings.

"Sorry" He whispered into the sky. Parker only hoped that the wind would carry his message.

The sky began to turn a plump pink, and beautiful rays of light reflected off the building windows, sending it dancing across the sky. The choreography of it all left Parker squinting in the light, but he still couldn’t miss it. Ahead of him, reflecting light off its windows of half circles, was The Empire State Building. A better view than a New York Times feature story, or the cover of Playboy Magazine, or even the full menu selection at Panera Bread. Maybe pesky humans could make more than just headaches for pigeons. They could make tall metal and concrete trees.

Where are you Seto, Parker repeated to himself. Closer, and closer he got, wondering every flap of the way if he should have brought a bouquet of squiggly worms to apologize.

“Setoooooo!” he yelled.

Then at the tip top of The Empire State Building, a little bird turned its head.

“Seto!” he laughed and cried. After all, he couldn’t decide which one he really felt. Parker swooped onto the top of the building and Seto joined him as though she was waiting for him all along.

Without any time to spare, Parker rambled from his little birdy-heart. He told her of his day to day, and his theories of her being a spy, or an alien, or worse a Pigeon-Eater (which made Seto laugh). Yet somehow she became his confidence, his inspiration, his friend. In the end he was too selfish to tell her the truth and see her go.

Birds can all be selfish sometimes, just like you and me. Everyone can make mistakes. Mr.Bankers hit birds on the head with newspapers, Seto Birds run away from their homes, and Parker Pigeons splat bird leftovers on people's heads.

Seto gave a little chipper chirp. “I’m glad you came to say goodbye” Seto sang. Still, she had to go. There was a home for her, and a species that needed her for preservation.

As light bounced off of her bluish green back and yellow stripped tummy Seto gave Parker a final goodbye. An affectionate purr passed between Seto and Parker.

“Don’t let this world Pigeon-Hole you Paul Parker.” Seto said. Hearing his whole name made goosebumps crawl across his plumage. “You are more than that”

“I promise. Thank you Setophage.” Parker replied “l’ll see you when you migrate”. The moment was bitter sweet, but Parker did not cry. It was more of a see-ya-later-migratory-gator type of thing when you say goodbye to a migratory bird. They always leave and return. It’s their gig.

With that, Seto swooped up into the skies, drawing giant loop-di-loops in the sky. Just like the shape of a delicious New York City Pretzel.

Now that is a delicious sight, Parker thought as he wispered his farewells. He turned and glided into the air, it was time to go home. He reached the nearest Empire State Building lookout, landed on his sturdy feet, and took the elevator back down. Oh Parker.

Maybe not much has changed after all. But one thing was for certain. Parker would never feel “crummy”, ever again.

THE END