It was when my girlfriend Jessica and I were out together that I realized I’d forgotten to tell her about the crows when she arrived at the airport. Ever since their homes were destroyed from the ravenous wildfires, they have craved sustenance, and in the midst of natural selection and Darwinism, most have grown to develop the ability to sense when someone shall die. So they can patiently await their next meal.

And while I love her adoration for animals, in this town, it is dangerous. On our way to the cafe, I saw a singular crow awaiting outside the apartment window of an old folks home. Three were watching a homeless man as his stomach slowly caves in. In an ally, five more of them were atop a stray kitten, attacked by a larger animal with torn flesh, bloody fur, and ripped limbs. The smell was horrendous. I had to shield her eyes from the brutality of it all. She doesn’t know and she cannot know. Not until after she is safe back in California. But she cannot help but gasp when a crow flies on her shoulder.

“Well aren’t you a cute little birdie?” she coos. With her fingers, Jessica gently strokes its black feathers, smoothing them down. The bird responds in kind, leaning its head back as if begging for more. “I’ve never seen a bird so social before! Are crows normally like this?”

“They are here,” I mutter, looking down at my coffee, already cold from the bitter winds. I’d already spent six dollars on it, so I take sips anyways. Afterwards, when the crow has overstayed its welcome, I wave at it and go, “Shoo! We have nothing for you here!”

“Hey! Be nice!” Another crow perches on her other shoulder, as if ready to stand up to me. Jessica smiles and comments, “Oh, another one!”

“Get out here you little shits!”

“Babe, stop yelling!”

A third crow, then a fourth.

“Go away!”

Ten are now swarmed around her, some watching from the street next to us. Their beady eyes beg for her death, but maybe if I make them go away, they will move on and condemn someone else to the end of their life. Closer and closer they encroach, and now I’m screaming.

“WHY WON’T YOU LISTEN TO ME! I TOLD YOU TO LEAVE HER ALONE!”

Before I know it I’m grabbing my chair, raising it over my head in hopes that these creatures will be frightened by my towering stance. I am receiving stares from every direction, but they are not in awe, in confusion, in fear. They understand.

“DIE! JUST DIE!”

Jessica tries to hold me back, but I’m already running for the ones in the road with frustrated tears in my eyes. They show no fear, no care for my agony. Despite their size, we are now their prey. Their grating caws send shivers accross my spine, winding around like a snake.

Then, it hits me.

First the headlights, then the impact.

Muffled voices of distress float around me, but only for a moment.

I am still on the road, but this time facing the sky, and bones are mangled in every which way. I can feel the twists and pulls against my skin. I had yet to reach the end, yet all ten of them cannot wait any longer. Their caws are mocking, almost like laughter, as if they were the ones who took that car and rammed it into my body. I do not have the strength to turn my head to see how much blood I’ve spilled, but from the wet sounds of their chewing and slurping, they are relishing a surplus amount.

They enjoy death so much so that they may as well think themselves to be murderers.