Writing Prompt No. 119
The bird crapped on Harper’s shoulder as she stepped out of her car.
She reached across to brush away what she thought was a leaf or a fly that had lost its way. The bird faeces stuck to her fingers and smelt funny.
Shit. Really? Today of all days.
Harper rummaged around in her bag looking for something, anything to clean the crap away. Her fingers curled over a square plastic wrapper. That will have to do. She peeled away the wrapping of the super-plus panty pad and dabbed it at her shoulder and fingers. She was unsure which to do first. The pad wasn’t big enough and the surface smeared the faeces into the fabric of her top.
She managed to clean her fingers and tucked the soiled pad into the side bucket of the door. She checked the time. Five minutes late for her meeting. She slipped on her jacket and smoothed down her outline with the palms of her hands.
She shut the car door and felt for the key fob locking the car from her pocket.
She wiped a finger down her nose clearing away small beads of perspiration while sucking her cheeks in, then out.
This is good. Bird shit is lucky. Nothing can go wrong now.
Harper turned and headed, with purpose, towards the door of the building, avoiding the dog turd that lay in a small warm pile on the path.
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