Pigeons: A Narrative Fiction

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In the dark alleys, running like veins through the city, nothing stirred, while the hollow sounds of honks and sirens bounced of the brick walls. From apartment windows lines had been stretched. wet clothing that had been hung up, waved proudly in the chilling winds, but soon froze, surrendering to Boreas and his wrath. in one of these alleys, away from all forms of life but for the pigeons whose wing beats gossiped gently on the air, lay a figure. The body did not stir, but for the barely noticeable movements of its side as it first inhaled… then exhaled. Any passerby would have thought her dead at a moment’s glance. It was fatigue, however, that kept the body in its immobile state. her glossy, long curls hid her face from sight, her arms

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