Driving along the backroads in Harry's convertible, I try not to think of my troubles. I shove the thought of work, writing, blogging and dieting to the back of my crowded mind, close my eyes and lean my head back against the bright yellow headrest as we cruise along the streets.
Opening my eyes, I see that we're approaching a tiny bird on the road. He's eating something from the pavement.
He'll move, I think as we speed towards the little winged dot. He's not moving! I realize as we gain on the small creature. A car in the other lane barrels past us. I look at Harry and he looks panicked.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!" I scream.
Harry looks panic-striken. "That was horrible. I feel bad!"
"It was a bird! We killed a bird!" I yell to no one in particular. "They're supposed to move! It's a bird law or something! They're SUPPOSED TO MOVE!"
"You didn't see what I saw in my rearview, " Harry said quietly as he downshifted.
"I don't want to know," I said. "It was supposed to fly away."
"Feathers, legs... " he started.
"I don't want to know!"
"Have you ever killed a bird before? With your car?" he asked me a bit later.
"No!" I said, my voice rising to a pitch not usually used by humans. "They're supposed to move!"
Now, I'm completely convinced that all birds communicate telepathically and that I will surely get pooped on in the near future: "Hey - look! Isn't that the girl from the purple car? Yeah? AIM!"