Too Much Gravity

Seagulls swoop above the town like kites. I stare up at them from the ground where my feet hurt from too much gravity. I'm on my way to sign on again, to fill out forms and guess answers. How much did I earn last year? How much is my council tax? I'd probably know if I had a real address.

A baby seagull walks up and down in front of Burger King nervously, pecking at empty plastic tubs like it's desperate for something. A young boy runs at it and it flaps away, can't fly yet. No wonder it looks scared. I wonder if its Mum's up there in the sky, looking out for it. I wonder when she's going to teach it to fly.

I hope it won't be the same woman in the job centre, the one with the clean little nails and superior teeth. Hair like my Mother's. The amount of times I've sat across from her trying not to make comparisons. I'm trying to free myself but they can't understand. Never heard of a problem that a job won't fix.

The baby seagull's back in the doorway of Burger King, pacing up and down, twitchy like an addict. The doors open and out comes a fat mother and her overweight kid. The seagull flaps off, straight into the road. A bus on its way to the city runs over it quick, white feathers following black wheels around for a second, then flying into the air. The bus disappears round the corner.

People point and look, a little girl laughs. The seagull's still alive. I can see its beak moving, making small gasps, crying for its mother. She doesn't come.

I keep walking, got to keep my appointment. The fat Mum from Burger King covers her daughter's eyes but it's too late.