Bird Shit

The wedding day 5th of July - 12:15 PM

'Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT!' Poppie screams as she tries to run to a very important appointment but she is sabotaged by a fucking bird. Species she has always hated and it seems as if that previous hate has come to follow her like this bird seems to follow her for over a day.

'Wait miss!' a guy yells after her as she hurriedly tries to clean off the 'hate' from the bird leaving stinky marks on her favorite blouse and her hands.

Of course she brought everything she needed for this meeting (which she thought was absolutely nothing) except for baby wipes. She had hoped to not need them for a long time.

The guy hurries after her as she tries to make her way through the park - poop mark and all. Honestly, the bird's poop is the last worry on her mind. If anything it all makes sense now. Her life is shite- explanation mark.

'Miss, I saw that bird poop on you don't you think it needs to be taken care of?'

'Excuse me, I don't care about the poop, nor about you, so please leave me be. Good-bye!' She turns around briefly to take a look at him and she can't hide the little jump her heart makes just by seeing him. It's the guy her meeting revolves around, but she's running late. Well, he's late as well judging by the fact he's waddling after her in the same direction just like they had agreed earlier. It isn't until she looks over her shoulder that he realizes it's her as well.

'God, if only I had known you were such a bitch,' he sniffles, clearly not impressed by her behavior at all.

'I wish you had known,' she returns as she keeps trying to make her way through the park were today everyone decided to picnic and enjoy life while she is only trying to save hers.

'Well you're quiet fun when you're drunk. If only we could be drunk for the rest of our lives huh?'

'Just shut up, I don't even remember your name.' Poppie rolls her eyes to the boy that she really does remember the name of. Harry, Harry, Harry... it's all she can think off lately.

'It's Harry,' he deadpans. The only reason she keeps reminding him is because she found out this morning it was the only thing she could say to piss him off.

'Whatever Harold, I really want to get this thing over with so you either follow me or leave. Just move.'

She doesn't ask which makes Harry stop walking after this woman covered in bird poop.

'Look, Poppie. You'll need me in that meeting so you better stop whining and bossing me around because it isn't going to help you at all.'

'Well, Harry... if you find me someone who whines and bosses others around you'd better walk with me. Before you know it, you are stuck with me.'

'How stupid of me to think that would be fun,' he says cold.

'Fun? With me?' She really doesn't get Harry and that's why maybe, a tiny little, she finds him interesting enough to stop walking. Maybe that's why that fatal evening (well, yesterday) she said yes to everything he proposed. A big, big mistake.

'Yeah. You might not remember it because if you did, you wouldn't agree with this meeting,' he says very sure of himself.

'I really don't remember so I rather just go to this meeting,' she tells him as she looks down to the big stain of black and white bird shit. It makes her roll her eyes again before she shakes her hair and lifts her chin up as she starts to wonder around the park again.

'I am not going in there with you looking like this,' Harry jokes as he catches up with her fast pace.

'I could say the same thing about you,' she counters back as her eyes briefly glance over the silk blouse hanging open to reveal part of his butterfly tattoo. It is that tattoo that made her believe Harry when he told her what happened the night before as it is one of the few things she remembers. And it is not her proudest moment, it was actually the worst moment of her life.

No scratch that.

The worst moment of her life happened after finding out about the tattoos, and she is trying so hard to undo that moment, but Harry is trying just as hard to let it stay that way.

'You like the way I dress. You said so when you were drunk and we all know drunks tell the truth,' he shrugs as if he isn't doubting himself one bit, which he really shouldn't 'cause he is right but since when does Poppie admit it when she's wrong?

Not today.

'It's really out of place and gross the way you dress. I guess that makes sense because it matches your greasy hair.'

'Wow, wow, wow, watch out madam we got a badass over here!' Harry yells to an old lady walking in front of them. She's still far away but they're catching up and she looks over her shoulders, furrowing her grey eyebrows before she regains her concentration back on her poodle.

'Stop that,' Poppie hisses to Harry but he just looks innocent to her.

'Stop what?'

'Stop... stop, YOU!' She yells frustrated.

'That would require for me to die and babe, I am not ready to go.' Harry grins proudly and she wishes she could just wipe his smug smile of his face with the non-existent baby wipes she's in desperate need for.

'If only,' she whispers as it would definitely solve some of her problems. 'Just please come Harry.'

'I am following you, right?' Harry cocks an eyebrow to her and she can't look away from the green of his eyes. It were his eyes that she recognized when she woke up this morning.

'Yes and thank you for that,' she manages to say although it costs her some strength to be thankful.

'Although I still mean that I am not going in there with you covered in bird shit.' Harry is actually giggling at her beautiful blouse that she is trying hard to ignore. Mainly because she wants to get to their appointment in time and partly because she is mourning the loss again of her favorite clothing piece.

'Please Harry, just work with me,' she pleads as she increases her pace because she sees the man they're supposed to meet in the distance. His suit is shining in the sun and she starts to run after it like a dog after a bone.

She can't miss meeting him, not today. Not now.

'Poppie, wait up. Poppie watch out!' She hears Harry yell and she looks over her shoulder to see what he means, but it's too late.

Something under her high heel is slippery and another thing around her ankle is tight, so tight she loses her balance. Her head hits the ground first, the blow to her skull not making her think straight so she calls for Harry instead of help.

'I am right here,' he answers her cries but he sounds far away and she can't see him. All she can see is blue sky.

'What happened?' She mutters as she tries to touch her head but it gets caught in to something else. Fingers.

'You hit your head. It's bleeding so it's best you don't touch it honey.'

'Don't call me that,' Poppie manages to say which makes Harry snigger even though lines form between his eyebrows out of worry. There's not much Poppie can do to stop Harry from smiling, but seeing her in pain is bringing him close on giving up on his signature look.

'You seem fine,' he tries to reassure her because she still produced a sentence, bleeding head and all, but most of all it is to reassure himself.

'Harry? I can't see you.'

'I'm right here,' he says and his head hovers over Poppie's. 'You slipped in dog shit, got caught in the poor poodles leash and knocked over that grandma in the process.'

'Dog and bird shit. It must be my lucky day,' she deadpans, her mind on the edge of darkness.

'No darling, that was yesterday.'

The last thing she sees is Harry's dimples and his eyes. Green, green, green and then just pitch black.