“Look, honey,” Meg said. “There’s a seagull perched on the ledge of the balcony.”
Stan grabbed his camera and quietly opened their hotel room’s balcony door so as not to spook the seagull and have it fly away before he could snap its picture with the cathedral in the background.
“Quick,” Meg whispered to her husband, “it’s looking right at us. Take the picture before it flies away.”
Stan lifted the camera, aimed it, and pressed the shutter button just as the seagull turned its head away from them. “Damn,” he said looking at the digital image on the back of the camera. “It looked away just as I was taking the picture.”
As soon he said that, the bird twisted its neck around and looked at the two of them. Stan once again lifted the camera to take the picture, but just before the shutter clicked, the bird’s head turned.
The same thing happened again. “This seagull is screwing with me,” Stan said, grabbing an apple from a bowl and throwing it at the bird. It missed.
The seagull looked at Stan and flew away. “I think it stuck its tongue out at you,” Meg said.
Written for Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practioner from Roger Shipp. Image credit: MorgueFile April 62433e902.