What inner agitation propelled the crows west every day at dawn? Were they running away from the light? Moira thought so.
In the rear view mirror the crow crowd followed her but in her front windshield she followed them. She seemed to be in the middle of the murder, her black car racing through the suburbs enveloped in the flow of crows but against the current of the river and she sensed she wasn’t moving at all – that wing and water conspired to hold her in one spot.
She almost enjoyed moving with the mass of blackness and being swept along ahead of the coming light, doing what she wanted to do instead of feeling aggravated by what she must do. Behind her was her job at the Seniors Sexual Health Office with the endless same questions from men mourning the loss of their sexuality asking how to rev up their sex life with the wife, and what was the best lubricant, as though sex was all pistons and carburetors.
The answer was crows. Go with the crows. Crows know.
She accelerated until she was in front of the cloud. Or was she being chased?
Just Jot It January’s prompt is aggravate.
Note: This is fiction. There is no planned story. It is evolving as I write guided by the Just Jot It January daily prompts. It may or may not make sense. I’ll work on sense at the end of the month and see if I like anything I wrote that I might want to spin into something fuller. Truly, I’m just exercising my creativity muscles this month and having fun.
Advertisements Share this:
