Night Pigeons

—for V and L

She had rats in her garage. She had rats on her roof. They kept her awake at night. Night after night. She couldn’t sleep. Night birds she told herself. That’s sweet. Little hopping noises. Night birds. Sweet. She could sleep.

 Her lover, frustrated one night, said to her, They are not night birds, they are rats.

 She had rats in her garage.  She could deal with that.  She could trap them, get a cat.  She could keep the idea of them away from her. But rats on her roof. Rats over her head. That was simply too much. Night birds. 

Rats, her lover insisted.

She went to visit her closest friend, her ex-lover, and started to talk about how she was kept awake by the sounds of .  .  .  using her fingers against the wall to tap out the sounds.  She was going to say the word, made a quick inhale, shaped her lips, but her friend instantly interrupted, Oh, you have night pigeons too?

RATS, she blurted to her friend. They are RATS.