a murder

metallic wrappers and feathers fall from the dense scaffolding in the ceiling outside the kitchen. there's an argument and two black birds leave the broken air ventilator only to return (are they the same that left?), flying fast but not carelessly into the vent.

'they're a nuissance,' a man says from the other side of the glass, unwrapping a Snack bar.

'someone is coming on wednesday for them.'

on the other side of the property a black bird is carrying a large stick into a nest outside my window. it's windy and he hovers patiently in the current. the gust dies down and he flies into a crack in the cement wall.

he (or another one?) pokes his head out and cocks it curiously before flying off. 

they don't care if we're here, we are just in their way as we devour everything.