Prruk-prruk-prruk.
Shoes, by the bathroom. How could he lose anything, really, in a place this small, but somehow he always found himself looking, as if the memory of taking off his clothes was itself misplaced. He had ten minutes before the bus stopped across the street from his apartment. He grabbed a Diet Coke, a bagel, and stuffed a fistful of coins in his pocket. He locked the door and turned to look up the stairs.
A bird sat at the railing at the top of the stairs. Bigger than a crow, at least two feet tall, black iridescent plumage touched with purple and dark eyes staring hard at him, as if somehow the bird knew Henry, and knew who and what he was. Long pointed throat feathers, as if the bird had a beard. Prruk-prruk-prruk. Louder this time, insistent. Then, eying him harder: toc
