You buy some popcorn and sit back down at the bench to feed the birds. As a boy
you used to dream of having pigeons of your own: "Hey Dad, maybe you can help
me build a pigeon coop up on the roof of our apartment building, like Marlon
Brando had in that old movie? I could catch some pigeons for free, it wouldn't cost
you anything, and I could pay for their feed from my paper route money?"
But your father had refused: "Worthless godforsaken creatures, nothing more than
rats with wings! Forget it! Why don't you go play ball with your friends, that's
what I did when I was you age."
You wanted to tell him then, but didn't dare admit it: "But Dad, I don't have any
friends. The only kids who ever say anything to me are the older boys at school
that take my lunch money. And I stink at baseball, I always get picked last when
they choose up teams at recess..."
While you've been daydreaming of your past, one of the pigeons has boldly
approached close enough to grab a piece of popcorn directly from the bag you are
holding in your hand. This startles you and you look down at it.
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