Strange Visitor

The anger flamed up in Henry again, he rushed towards the bird shouting and waving his arms wildly. At the last moment it fluttered away, he stopped, lumbered around in a clumsy half circle; then chased off after it again.

They played out this sad, silly parody of a cartoon chase for maybe half an hour, then stopped and retreated to their respective corners like the exhausted contestants in a wrestling match for idiots. The bird hovered by the window, its unblinking pebble eyes reflected back at Henry twin miniature images of someone made wild by panic and anger.

For some reason this more than anything else about the whole absurd invasion hurt like a slap in the face.

Henry lunged forwards into the chase again filled with the energy of pure rage. He chased the bird around in circles as before, this time though there was something like purpose behind his actions.

Flapping his arms wildly he drove the bird out of the bedroom back onto the landing and from there into the bathroom; triumphantly he slammed the door shut sealing them both inside. Sensing, perhaps, that the initiative had changed hands the bird flew up to the ceiling then hovered bumping its wings ineffectually against the top edge of the closed door.

Henry paid it no attention and reached again for the window catch, swinging the small casement upwards to let a blast of cold air into the room. The bird began to beat its wings frantically against the top edge of the door, a snow shower of dust drifted down and settled on the carpet.





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