The pudgy Hispanic boy two driveways over momentarily distracted the robin from his search. After a second’s pause, he returned his beak to the matted leaves in the gutter. There had to be a worm in there. Anything less was a waste of time. Spring was, after all, very short.
The boy, facing the street, looked backward over his shoulder, and hefted his basketball up and over his head. The ball disappeared behind him, perhaps into the net. Perhaps not.
Leaves jumped to the left and to the right as the bird picked at small sticks and wrinkled candy wrappers.
From the car, she watched all of this, while a man in LA told her the day’s economic news through the radio. It wasn’t terribly encouraging news, but the man had a nice voice.