News of the Day

     "Do you have any thoughts about the Speckled Pigeon?"

    She glanced up from the paper, the Sunday paper, the only paper edition they still received, the heavy-with-ads-paper edition, a real newspaper with front-page headlines, a crossword, editorials. She loved the heft of the paper, even the whiff of ink on paper. She knew she could get more information than she wanted on one, complete with people's snarky comments or, occasionally, a wise observation about the news of the day. But she preferred her news unmediated by strangers and, on this one day of the week, on Sunday, the day of rest, right?....she wanted to read the paper, the real paper, the newspaper.

    The Speckled Pigeon has a very yellow eye." 

    She looked up then, hoping the irritation and incredulity at the random statement showed on her face, but was careful not to say anything that would create a real conversation.

    "Surrounded by orange feathers, almost a mask."

    She risked a "Hmmm," then ruffled the paper, turning the page, refolding it, quickly, in a hurry, as if anxious or impatient to continue the article she was reading.

    He took the hint, mumbled something like, "Well, okay," and turned back to his book, a bird book, no doubt. Called what? Pigeons of the World? She had no idea...but now she found herself thinking about birds, pigeons specifically, realizing against her will, that there were probably many varieties of pigeon and who the hell had time to categorize them down to the specificity of "Speckled Pigeon?" Was there an Unspeckled Pigeon? Smooth-faced Pigeon? Unblemished Pigeon? How many varieties of pigeon are there?

    Should she ask him?

    Well, no, because he'd say, I'll find out, type something in, both thumbs flying, and then she'd have to listen to the litany of information he found about the Unspeckled Pigeon and pigeons in general. She looked up quickly --a mistake--he saw her, brandished his phone, "Also called the African Rock Pigeon, lives south of the Sahara . . ."

    Well, okay. Enthusiasm was contagious, and she could read about the man with the orange hair anytime, but pigeons . . . "That's fascinating," she said. "Tell me more."