Nestling
Copyright© 2023 by Mat Twassel
Chapter 2
Nessa can’t decide what to do. For a moment she thinks about simply setting the bird on the ground—let nature take its course. But what if her neighbor’s pesky cat came by? Or nosey Mrs. Thatcher herself? In her nakedness she’d die of shame. And the thought of the poor bird being devoured by Mrs. Thatcher’s wretched cat. Toyed with mercilessly. She’d once watched the cat play with a mouse out on the street, batting it about. She almost wished a car would cruise by and crush the cat into the asphalt. But not many cars came along their cul-de-sac. In the end the cat carried its prey into the woods.
Maybe best to put the little bird out of its misery. Her hands tighten almost imperceptibly. Could she be brave enough to do it? To end that little life? Would there be much blood? Feathers and frail bones and who knows what else all over her hands. Nessa shivers.
She has an idea. She’d climb the tree and put the bird back in its nest. Ha. She has no idea where the bird’s nest might be, and even if she did, how could she possibly climb a tree while holding the bird? Hold it gently in her mouth? Not a chance!
What to do? What to do?
Nessa has a horrible thought. The doors have some kind of security timer. Five minutes and they would automatically lock. Then she’d have to go around to the front door and enter the code, and surely Mrs. Thatcher would spot her and come rushing over. Frantic, Nessa grasps the knob.
Just in time! The door opens, and Nessa, still holding the injured songbird, hurries inside, and with her heel pushes the door shut. Deep breath! Another.