David P. Reiter


It stared at me side-on through the window, head tilted, green eyes pulsing. As if it expected me to jump through the dusty pane to leap at its throat. I suppose its an old dilemma: the very thing that stirs the blood also makes it tremble. But then, with a peck at the glass, its fear gave way to curiosity. I was fresh. And unfamiliar.



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