Maisie
written by: Alastair Millar
@skriptorium
On the apartment building’s roof, it’s just Maisie, the pigeon, and the transitional sounds of a city shifting mode from day to night.
She sits on the parapet, takes a deep breath of air that tastes faintly of gasoline, and exhales slowly. It’s good to be away from the arguing, and it’s not like her parents will even notice that she’s gone. And she’s safe from the futile bleating of neighbours asking her (of all people!) to do something about their constant noise.
The pigeon eyes her uncertainly, not used to seeing people up here. She gives it a small, reassuring smile. “Don’t worry,” she tells it, “just me, nobody else.” It coos what she takes as acceptance.
A police siren wails, too far away to be interesting. Another year, and she’ll be able to move out, find her corner of the urban wilderness to feather. Maybe find some peace despite the hubbub of the metropolis.
Tiny steps; next week she starts work at the convenience store on the corner, weekends and evenings, building up a small nest egg of her own.
The bird spreads its wings, and prepares to take flight. Maisie does too.
- Jack and Annie and Me - June 5, 2024
- Maisie - February 12, 2024
