Vignette 14

The birds lifted in a storming flock, flapping wings in my periphery. They and I shared the street and they swopped in formation like a million spinning halos overhead. The woman before me stood waiting for a taxi in a purple rayon dress. The wake of each passing car made her hem-line quiver. Her large shining purse contained the pack of kleenex that I needed to use. It could save me from the gush of blood that had begun to churn out my nostril. I ran towards her and grasped the purse like a madman, grabbing the kleenex and running away with flailing limbs. I retreated to the alleyway, sat near a gated doorway to remedy my bloody mess of a face. Next time, I'll drink more water the day after.