There were seven pigeons sitting on the statue’s spear on the grey Saturday morning when Sheri took her break.  She always spent her breaks outside, even when when the skies were filled with clouds and mist clung to her coat so that she shivered.

No one ever joined her during her breaks and Sheri watched the pigeons with envy as they preened and cooed, comfortable in one another’s company.

“I bet it’s nice to always have a friend with you.”

As she turned to go back inside, Sheri swore one of the pigeons blinked at her. But when she turned around to take another look, they had taken off as one leaving the statue and her behind.