Crows' Feet

Clouds hung over the church hiding the spire from sight, giving the impression that the tower lay half finished, Benjamin watched the crows forage for food, using their sharp beaks to poke at the icy ground. They were big birds, naturally angry, squawking aggressively at each other. Ben hated their feet; the way they dangled beneath them as the birds landed made him feel queasy and yet, at the same time, he was mesmerised by them.  

‘What you thinking?’ He was jolted from his thoughts by Miranda’s voice.

Now he had a decision to make, what had he been thinking, he’d been thinking about crows’ feet, the ugly black spider-like talons that sent nasty shivers down his spine. But would she believe him if he told her that? Or would she think that he was hiding something, thinking about something else? So should he lie and say he was thinking about nothing? No, in his experience women hated when you answered ‘nothing’ to that question. Maybe he could tell her he was thinking about how beautiful her eyes were, ha, that was too corny, too suspicious. So what then? God he hated that question. Why did people ask it? He took a deep breath and decided honesty was the best policy.

‘Well, I was thinking how crows’ feet make me feel a little uneasy.’

‘Really?’ Here we go thought Ben. ‘So was I,’ continued Miranda, genuine enthusiasm in her voice. ‘God, I thought it was only me. I was thinking how the talons reminded me of those horrible spiders, you know those black ones. what are they called?’

Ben looked at Miranda in disbelief; there had been no ulterior motive and no hidden agenda. He was over analysing, it was just a simple question an honest answer and a mutual dislike of crows’ feet.