He heard them before he saw them, and he
stepped out onto his porch to get a good view.
The starlings.
They had not been
there one moment, and then, with a harsh din of an entire flock of tiny lungs
screeching obscenities at each other, they were there.
His cat stared at
the sky with huge, alarmed eyes.
Chuckling, he said
reassuringly, “It’s just birds. Just a lotta birds.”
They filled the
sky, then his yard, blocking out the sun, his vision, his breath.
The cat streaked
away, flat to the ground, as he lay gasping his last.
“Lotta…birds.”
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