By Mercedes Lawry
Leroy threw a rock at a particularly loud crow and shouted, “Shut up!”
“Don’t piss off a crow,” Rudy said. “They never forget.”
“That’s elephants,” Leroy said.
“It’s crows, too. There’s research.”
“You and animals,” Leroy scoffed.
“Animals don’t disappoint,” Rudy sniffed. This shut Leroy right up as he’d just been disappointed by yet another woman.
“You should get a pet,” Rudy said.
“You should get me a beer.”
They were at the Two Step by now. The crows had disappeared. All but one, a patient one with an excellent memory.
After four beers, Leroy wouldn’t know what hit him.
Mercedes Lawry has published short fiction in several journals including, Gravel, Cleaver, and Blotterature. She was a semi-finalist in The Best Small Fictions 2016 and was nominated twice for Best Microfiction 2021. She’s published three poetry chapbooks and was nominated for Pushcart seven times. She lives in Seattle.