Semi-Daily Scribbles

Connie was late. Preoccupied, as usual. She had become agitated and forgetful ever since noticing there were more and more starlings getting in her way. They watched her through the kitchen window as she drank her coffee. Starlings marked the time of when she left the house in the morning, and when she returned at night. Those damned wings and beaks even had the gall to stand at the head of the queue waiting for the train. Connie knew the starlings were making fun of her with their secret tapping and scratching language. She, in turn, told the birds what she thought.

"I'm tired of smearing lipstick all over this pig. The situation is not getting any prettier. It's bad, bad. Dangerous places my mind has been wandering. You fellows want me to leave, is that it? Well, I'm not going anywhere. You hear me? I'm staying right where I…"

Connie was late. She paid no heed to things like rattling tracks and screaming yellow ribbons. Nothing was going to pull her attention away from them. Especially the arrogant one waiting at the head of the queue.