Debut Flash: 'Blank' by Izelle Du Pisanie

The four twigs and some hardened droppings are the most meagre of attempts at nest building Bri has seen from the notoriously careless city pigeons. It looks like the wind may have blown debris over her cherry-red car before a pale ovoid was simply dropped atop it. She continues to stare at it for the third minute straight. Readied car key in hand, hovering in the air where it was when she spotted the unexpected adornment, she wonders if the parents intend to return.  

She’s heard of the pigeons doing this before, nesting in random places, but she didn’t expect it to be so out in the open. So precariously balanced and bolstered by only the idea of a nest. On the roof of her car. Perhaps this wouldn’t have happened if she parked in her old spot and not the one Wayne used to park in. 

Bri is late for work. She understands that she must move the egg, but she cannot bring herself to touch it, lying there: smooth, white, and blank, like the doctor’s face last week after telling her to rest and regain her strength.