Bird Poop

Sarah sat alone on the bench outside her beach-house. She stared at
the waves crashing against the rocks in the orgasm of nature. She put
down her wine flute and picked up her feet to rest them on the bench.
She hugged her knees as she sobbed.
The breeze danced with her grey hair that she had, for the first time
in years, left open. She stood up and scanned the property. She was
alone with no semblance of companionship. The bench she sat on moments
ago became her object of scrutiny.

“I am truly alone. Not even a splatter of bird poop to signify other
life in this heaven lost.” Sarah laughed. “Again the only person I
have to talk to is myself and even I don’t much like the conversation.”

She settled back on the bench tears welling up in her eyes again.
“All I want is a sign that I am not alone even if it is just bird
poop, let me not be alone!”

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