Pigeons crowded the sill outside of Sally’s window. They cooed and pecked at the glass until Sally couldn’t ignore them any longer.
She flung the window open, and the bird scattered. They regrouped and swooped into Sally’s office. "What do you want?" she asked.
They just stared at her with their unblinking orange eyes.
Sally rubbed her eyes. "I don’t have time for this. If you need something, tell me. If not, go away. I have work to do."
A pigeon pecked her foot. Sally kicked it. The rest closed around her, and their cooing took on a menacing note. The pigeon Sally kicked landed on her shoulder and pooped on her jacket. It held out its leg.
Sally removed the note that hadn’t been there a moment before. She scanned the bird’s request.
"You come in here, peck me, soil my jacket and probably my carpet, and you want me to go and hold a door open for you? What are you offering me in return?"
Another pigeon landed on her arm. She took the message from its leg. "Stock tips? Seriously?"
The pigeons cooed.
Sally grimaced. Her portfolio could use some help. "Okay, okay."
Another pigeon gave her a piece of paper covered with scribbled stocks.
She took her lunch early and headed to the art museum. She stood in the doorway, and the pigeons fluttered in over her head.
They flew off toward the statuary exhibit.