pigeons flirruped and twirtled against his bare toes. he woke with a start and kicked at the flurry of grey which scattered to surrounding trees. he dragged his dirty fingers across his bearded face and shielded his eyes from the sunlight with a khaki sleeve. laid across concrete steps he listened for the bustle of morning commuters. hearing none he figured it to be a weekend. maybe a sunday.
he half rose and rolled towards the upper stair and picked up a carton and shook it. liquid swilled and sploshed and he drew the plastic spout to his lips. he threw back is head and drained the last few drops of wine. it tasted sour against his dry tongue and he spat past his sleeve. laying back against the cold stone he rasped a groan which trailed into a long sigh.
a rustle behind his head and a noise like the whine of a cat. he started upright and swivelled on his hip, almost falling from his stair but catching himself. he glared at the alien package neatly folded not three feet from him. a parcel of cloth tied with rough twine. the parcel coughed and rustled. he approached on all fours. the deep red face of a new born baby winced at him. his eyes fixed on the strange gift his hand reached for the carton which he shook absently.
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