ducks

                                                         20 October 2017

The best part of waking, now that sleeplessness is over, is finished. Now it is time to try to stay awake. Up early, out of the house early.

Down the alley, leaving the mess that is home behind. At An junction between the alley, the main Old town street and the Theater street, there is the brown clad man again, a badge on his belt, an identity card. Perhaps he works in one of the atomic reactors. He proceeds on his way down the old town.

On passing through the town gates see a flock of about ten ducks approach. They approach as a group, as if they are expecting something. Stop, look, and they continue to approach. Then they stop. And look. 

So on to the bus stop. Looking back, see that a man is approaching, a plastic bag in hand. The ducks ran towards him now.

He calls the ducks with a chicken call, the ducks flock around him, excited.He walks on down towards the river. When the group, the man and the ducks, are in front of the little weather station in the tiny park by the river, he opens the bag and scatters the contents on the ground. He kicks towards something, and this something scuttles into a shadow under the

bushes, out of the lamplight. A rat, wanting a cut of the rations. The ducks eat, make duck noises.

Dolores is at the bus stop, her face covered by her scarf. A small car putts wµp*. she gets on board. It is her marine

The bus arrives, * the three passenger board,  all to the railway station.

Pass the hundreds of rented bicycles there, and say good morning to the man smoking, the smoker, there same as every day. coffee, then platform six.