Crows

Crow on a wire. A gloomy portent, precariously perched. And, as the sun sets, so does it spread its deathly shadow across the just and unjust of the outdoor seating area of the California Pizza Kitchen.

You come to work, clock in, you put sugar in your coffee, and watch it slowly disappear into nothingness. But the sugar doesn't know why. Sugar didn't ask to be born.