A robin hopped, waited, hopped, hopped, waited, and thrust his beak into the dirt a couple of times. A leaf flipped up from the violence. Nothing. He hopped to a different spot. This continued.
A fly darted herky-jerky on the moist, sandy earth near my feet, probing the tiny little boulders and inch-long shreds of decomposing wood and grass. He paused in the sun, then hopped along six inches at a time. This continued.
A crow paced along the gutter of the food hall, making a creaky caw sound every so often. At one point, he turned towards the gutter and retrieved a white ring, chomped on it a couple of times, and put it back. Another crow glided to a trash can. Near the can, he found a chicken egg shell. He played with it a while and it broke into pieces. This continued.
A man approached the cashier in the food hall about a sandwich on the menu. “I’m sorry. That is a lunch item.” He asked if they could make it now. “No, they only make it at lunch.” He returned his attention to the giant electronic menu board and furrowed his brow. This continued.