A Day At The Beach

I don’t remember why I took the day off. The usual reason, probably. I didn’t like that job very much, and I didn’t much care if they fired me.

They didn’t, which was annoying. I’d get the dole straight away if they fired me. I’d wait six weeks if I left. The rent always needs paying.

My favourite spot on the sand didn’t always include a pretty girl, and it never included a crow.

The pretty girl was a bonus, and I’m guessing she’d taken a day off work also.

I didn’t ask. I wasn’t there to make a friend. I was there to listen to the water and to soak up some sun.

The crow, on the other hand, had other ideas.

It has to be said that I was barracking for him. I’m assuming it was a him. You never can tell with crows.

He worked on her bra strap for a few minutes before she reached back and shooed him away.

He waited for her to fall asleep again and had another go.

By his third attempt, he’d worked out how the knot worked. One final tug and the string came undone.

The crow looked at me, and I looked at the crow.

The girl jumped up, and the crow took off with her top in his beak. I swear he smiled at me, but maybe that was my imagination.

The young lady covered her breasts, but not before their loveliness was seared into my memory.

In a flash, a T-shirt covered her.

She gathered up her belongings while I pretended not to have noticed what had transpired.

I don’t know where the crow took the bar top, but I’d like to think he presented it to his mate. Maybe they made a nest out of it; who knows?

I stopped trying to get fired and found a moderately less soul-destroying job, then another one, until I finally found this one, which isn’t too bad.

I haven’t been back to the beach for more than a year.

I sometimes wonder how that crow is getting on, and I wonder about the woman as well.

I do a lot of wondering.