My problem was that I was looking at her face. Her brown hair was pulled back in a single ponytail. She paused for a second to let her blue eyes adjust to the dim atmosphere. As she started walking toward the counter I tried to picture her covered in fur with large ears, but nothing really clicked. That’s when I heard Paul’s voice whisper as he poured a shot of espresso. He never looked my way.


The thin lips that graced her narrow face bore no resemblance to the bill that defines a waterfowl. I began mentally preparing my forthcoming argument as I rung her up for a latte. As I handed her card back to her I searched for some feature that would connect her to an animal. The game had become a Tuesday night tradition to help pass the time. Paul was winning, but if I could beat him on this girl we would be tied.

I had settled on parakeet and felt reasonably confident that I had the better option, until she walked away. When she turned I almost burst out in a short laugh, but managed to cock my head in disbelief instead.

It’s not that she had a big butt, in fact it was rather petite, but there was no mistaking the way she carried her derrière. Even in the short walk away to where she would collect her drink, she leaned slightly forward, as if fighting an unfelt wind, pushing her butt out behind her. The slight waddle in her steps only accentuated her duckiness. It was so completely obvious that I had no choice but to accept defeat with a nod and a smile.

Copyright © 2012 Adam Drake



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