I stood, feet aching from a night of dancing in heels, with my over-stuffed rucksack between my feet, zip bulging and buckles bursting, eating the last of a far-too-flakey croissant I’d grabbed in a hurry from the Co-op behind the bus station.
Wiping buttery crumbs from my fingers, I looked at the patch of floor beside my bag and wondered how on earth there could be so much bird shit in such a specific corner, indoors.
Why here? How? Inside a bus station, beside metal benches and the barrier stopping me from accidentally boarding the 08:14 to Newcastle instead of the 08:30 back to London. A squashed little corner of concrete, absolutely splattered in a noticeably, massive amount of bird shit.
The London-bound bus pulls up. The barrier is removed and I’m free to board. I scoop up my big red bag and notice the trail of crumbs I’ve left in the small corner I’ve been waiting in.
(Pigeon illustration by @dotmund)