With furtive hands the woman reaches into her bag. She glances desultorily in several directions, then breaths deeply in. When her hand reemerges she is clutching a bird’s foot. She waves it in the air and then stuffs it back into her bag.

She walks about for several hours, uncertain. Finally something happens and she is more certain. Then finally something else and she is sure.

Weeks later she attends a movie at a small theater. It is about a woman from New York and a date she goes on. At the end of the movie she weeps, then leaves.

Today, the day that this story takes place, we find the woman alone in her apartment. She is wearing turquoise beads around her neck and a long, brown dress. Her hair is darker than her dress. It hangs over one shoulder. She sighs and her hand skids across her knee.

This is all framed in a window through which a pigeon briefly passes. Filthy creature she would have thought had she seen it, but she doesn’t. Her teeth gnaw insistently on the inside of her mouth.

In the future other things will happen to her. They will not be recorded, but you can imagine for yourself what they might be.