Crow hopped down the street, poking his beak into cracks, looking for the little things left behind: peanuts, beads, crumbs. Early Sunday morning, the streets mostly empty.
Ahead, the red checked tablecloths of the Bakeline Cafe rustled in the light breeze, beckoning him forward. He hopped closer, daring to hope that someone had left something.
He’d once found an entire grilled cheese there, with three long French fries, and had managed to drag the whole thing under the lilac hedge, where he ate like a king.
In the far corner of the cafe patio, a woman under a large, straw sun hat sat reading a book and nursing a latte. She took no notice of him as she turned the page, sipped from her paper cup.
Crow hopped onto the closest chair, grasping the black iron with his feet. His head swiveled left; right; his dark eyes scanning the tables. Nothing. But wait–
A splash of pink caught his eye. A quick glide from the chair to the ground put him a foot from the mystery object.
Holy mother of garbage, he’d hit the mother lode.
Somehow, improbably, unbelievably, a perfect ice cream cone topped with two scoops–one strawberry, one chocolate–stood in a cup that rested in a square paperboard container, the kind that holds four coffees.
He looked left and right again. Surely someone would be coming back for this. He had to move fast. But how to carry an ice cream cone almost as big as he was?
Crow pulled at the rim of the cup with his beak, nimble as a pair of fingers, but the cup wouldn’t budge. He grabbed the rim of the cone instead, but ended up with a face full of chocolate ice cream.
He stopped, took a breath, and noticed with a start that the woman had left her book and appeared in the chair beside him. Instinct told him to flee; desire kept his feet on the ground. One eye remained fixed on the cone while the other looked her over.
She smiled. “Can I help you?” she asked, reaching toward the cone. Crow hopped backward, instinct momentarily beating out desire.
With one deft movement, the woman plucked the cone from the cup and held it out to him.
“Here,” she said.
He frowned.
“Take it.” She moved it closer.
He reached a foot toward the cone, tentative. She smiled and held it steady.
Crow snatched the cone and hopped a few paces away, struggling to stay upright under the awkward balance of the cone. He eyed the woman. She didn’t move.
Should he just start eating? She probably wouldn’t bother him, but…
Too risky. And his leg was starting to shake under the weight of the cone.
He hopped further away, but the top of the ice cream teetered the other direction. He hopped toward it, hoping to get underneath it, but the ice cream had already swung the other way. He hopped that way. The ice cream wobbled. Hop, sway, hop, wobble… Crow panicked and hopped faster… hop, sway, hop, wobble… Plop.
He stared in horror at the ice cream on the cobblestones. The sun, oblivious, continued to shine, and the tablecloths continued to flutter gently in the breeze. Crow’s lower beak began to tremble. A lone tear crept down his face.
He’d been standing that way for a few minutes, dreaming of the cone that might have been, when he heard the woman clear her throat softly. He’d forgotten all about her, and whipped his head around.
She hadn’t moved.
“I believe,” she said, “that what this calls for is sprinkles. May I?” She inclined her head toward the ice cream.
Crow hopped back a few steps.
The woman reached into the pocket of her sundress, her eyes squinting upward as she felt for something.
“Ah,” she exclaimed, and pulled out a handful of peanuts. “Never know when you might need a snack.” She winked.
She stood up slowly, then reached out and sprinkled the peanuts onto the ice cream.
“Eat up, Crow. We don’t open for another half hour.” She winked again, then stepped back to her book and latte.
His eyes followed her as he pondered his fortune. Wait a second, where had the ice cream come from?
The woman looked up, as though remembering something.
“Oh, and Crow,” she said, “No need to second guess a gift from the universe. Just enjoy it.”
She settled back into her seat, took a sip, and turned a page.
Crow smiled, reached out, and crunched a strawberry-flavored peanut.
