Murder in the Morning

Yours is there. I looked at the Nutella. Two big, huge jars weighing nearly, no over two pounds each. That was not mine. Mine was a small slim package. A Book. I opened the package. “What is it?”, she asked. Santa Ana? no, definitely not LA. I hate it when my brain gives out on the simplest items that I have a tough time remembering. Do not have a stroke. “You have recovered,” they tell me. Well no. I have not. I am grateful for saving my life. Just a little more would be nice. I held up the book for her to read. palm springs noir, that was it, remembered at last. palm springs noir arrived today. I skipped the introduction. Plenty of time for that later. For now, I started to read.

I like cactus. Cactus and old people, old places, things that survive. Quiet mornings.

And so it starts. And it gets better. Yes, I have some great reading ahead.

There was a murder this morning. Five of them. Tow of them were young. I went to get a camera to record it. Then I got a little too close. The crows flew off. Did they do that before, before our modern times when somebody keeps crows as pets? One might think that after twenty-odd years here with chicken keeping for a long time before they were killed by weasels and raccoons. Before the times of putting out chicken feed and french fries and leftovers before all of that, you would think that they would come to trust us and not fly off. We have walked by them on the sidewalk, slowly. They hop or two away but do not fly away. Maybe it is the young ones. Born earlier this year. They are being cautious. Maybe tomorrow morning I will be able to photograph them.

— MichaelRpdx

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