He sat, watching the bird, almost amused.
Almost, because there was something sad about the crow’s antics. He stopped watching and closed his eyes. He went back to his thoughts; visions of happier times. He had almost finished his psychology degree when things went pear-shaped. He thought about the girl he may well have gone on to marry. His parents, that had always been good to him, had always supported him, until… He couldn’t blame them, couldn’t face them. He could never go back. He couldn’t blame the drugs either. The drugs were just there. He was the one that took them. Then came the shameful end of his part-time job, his only source of money. He was no longer capable of performing simple tasks. He had been high so much of the time.
The rustling caught his attention. The crow was now deep in the bin, rummaging around noisily. Scraps of cellophane and paper littered the path. Memories kicked in. Those tiny plastic bags that contained the precious powder, that were so easy to get, so available. He had the money, back then. Then came the arrest. The charge was burglary. His parents had all but disowned him. He needed the money for drugs; he was honest about that. The streets are his home now. Now, no job, no bed, no drugs, no rent money, no food.
He gave a start as the crow managed to toss a food container out of the bin and onto the ground. He watched as it desperately tried to break it open. He realised, he too was hungry. He remembered back, less than a year ago, regularly taking his girlfriend out for a meal at a local fast food café. With a shudder, he looked on as the bird wrestled desperately with a container that it couldn’t open. He knew that hunger was driving it. With a shake of his head, he stood, knowing that he should find somewhere else. He became aware of the fact that he wasn’t enjoying the bird’s company.
Its desperate predicament was far too close to his own.