Entry Eight: September 28, 2011
I’ve made a friend. His name’s Fred and he’s a pigeon. The old woman, whose name is Fran, gave me a sandwich. I was so hungry I didn’t bother asking where she got it. And then, half way through, Fred came along, hopping on the sidewalk and stopping a few feet away. I gave him some of my sandwich, and now he stays in the general vicinity of my bench, waiting to be fed again.
I’m glad to have someone-even if it’s a pigeon- want to be around me, willing to wait for hours on end just to get a scrap of bread. Maybe that sounds mean. I’m still glad. I’m glad I’m not alone. I guess Fran should count as a friend, but she doesn’t really talk, or do much of anything except walk around for hours, looking for ‘treasures’. I feel bad for her. Not in the pitying sense as much as just sad. The sight of this underweight, ragged old woman vainly looking for her treasures makes me sad.
Now Fred is hopping towards me. I wish I had some more food to give him.
YOU ARE READING
Fall
RomanceThis isn't a typical love story. I didn't meet some boy and fall in love at first sight. In fact, I didn't fall in love with a boy at all. Or a girl. Not even a house plant. My name is Thalia Walker, and I fell in love with the world.
