Stairwell

We spend a lot of times on stairwells. I find it hard to remember them. My last flat I went up and down four stories for fours years. Before that two stories for three years. These stairs, one year.

Though one morning, I remember, in the second-last flat i lived in - the four year one - anyway, one morning I opened the door to find a pigeon sitting at the edge of the top step. It was warm, so I went and sat with him a while.

I have to say, time passed, I got bored. He wouldn't come in. He stood up, walked about a bit, sat back down. A pattern of this. He didn't say much. I mean, I like silences myself but, well, within reason pal, within reason. I had no coffee anyway. He didn't look like the tea type. What was I gonna do?

I went back inside. "Well, later" I said.

He blinked, bristled.

After an hour I opened the door again and he was sitting outside the flat opposite. "Alright?" I asked.

Pigeon-silence.

An hour later he was gone. I'll bet they had coffee.