#4. Pigeon in the room

Sunday afternoon. 2 PM or 3, I don’t remember sharply. It is not an important detail. I was laying in my bed watching some random stupid shtick on YouTube and my face was towards the wall. It is an important detail. I could hear pigeons fluttering around, flying in and out my balcony like they always do, searching for a papaya to poke their beaks into. How do I know that? Well, because I had kept a papaya in my balcony a day before. A day before itself, I got to know that pigeons like poking their beaks in papayas. A day before itself, I had taken precautionary measures. I put a thin hand towel over the papaya. Pigeons can’t be that smart, right? Not smarter than me of course (me being a human being after all), right?

I had won the battle even before the angry birds could announce it to their army. Anyway, coming back to the Sunday afternoon 2 PM or 3 ( I seriously  don’t remember and it is not important). I was laying in my bed faced towards the wall (important detail), watching some random stupid shtick on YouTube.

I put my headphones away for a minute to take a sip from my coffee that was kept on the floor nearby, behind my back. A pigeon, as creepy as the one in the painting attached, was poking its beak into my coffee mug. I froze in my bed. It looked at me and smirked. Yes, the pigeon smirked with its big red (or whatever color it was) eyes. Now I had my back against the wall, literally. I had nowhere to go. I had left the balcony door open. The balcony door of all doors. Six other intruders sat quietly on the railing. It had backup too. I didn’t. I couldn’t move, neither could I call for help, because the door that should have been open was closed.

The pigeon poked its beak again in the coffee, tilted its neck, made a bad face, sneezed and flew away. They all flew away with it. I was rattled to my heart. Was the coffee really that bad? Maybe pigeons don’t like coffee. Papaya they do.

(Featured Image- Oil Painting by Adele Renault)

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