A Murder of Crows: Four

Sick with worry, he cursed his shallowness and walked, sweating and squinting at the sun lowering in the west.

In a sporting goods store, Raymond reached into a display case and grabbed a large fixed-blade knife. The blade glinted under the fluorescent lights and bent his reflection into something ugly. He looked around for more things to take. In only a few hours of borderless fear, he had become a thief and was now conscienceless. He left the store and walked toward the downtown.

He stopped at other places—ones he thought might hold something useful. Never covetous before, his mind rolled through things he had wanted but could not afford. Between thoughts constricting with panic, possessions taunted him. Sick with worry, he cursed his shallowness and walked, sweating and squinting at the sun lowering in the west. In front of him, high in the blue sky, a crow wheeled and watched him. The sun made its black feathers gleam.

A Murder of Crows is a story in parts. Read previous posts here: joewilley.substack.com/t/a-murder-of-crows