Hope is the Thing With Feathers

Chapter 6

"What should I do, then?" Blathers asked. His voice had shrunk to a soft whisper. Inwardly, he was holding back his urge not to cry. He had done everything right. He had done everything to his standards. And it was still not enough.

"Have you considered becoming a museum curator?" Cornelius asked. "Your hands-on skills may not be that developed, but you have a knack for knowledge."

"A curator?"

"You would still get to see a wide array of specimens, and though you wouldn't work as hands-on, you would gladly be able to share with other animals your knowledge of such specimens. I could see you in the profession. Of course, this is just a suggestion, but it may be one to consider. I will write your recommendation as you advised me, but it would be wise to heed a bit of what I've said today," Cornelius said.

Blathers sighed and thanked the owl. His legs were trembling as he pushed the door open with his wing. He tried not to dwell on the words of Professor Cornelius too much, even if he knew the owl's words were significant. 

Trying to distract himself from his disappointing meeting, Blathers headed to the library, as he so often did. He did not have much work to do, so he found himself perusing some older books, looking for tales of dinosaur bones and booby-trapped pyramids to keep his mind off the matters at hand.

One book was heavily worn, but Blathers had found the more worn books were sometimes a better read. He opened it up for a mere second before he saw something slimy and pale squirming inside the pages.

"Hoo!" he exclaimed. He threw the book into the air with his wings, trying to not to vomit at the sight of maggots eating the pages of a book.

The librarian came over to shush him and shoo him off before he make any more trouble. The day, in Blathers' eyes, kept getting worse and worse.

The only cure he could think of was an afternoon cup of coffee from The Roost. The day had grown cold and rainy, leaving the café fairly empty. Brewster dejectedly stepped inside, feeling a little better when greeted by a smile from his friend.

"The usual?" Brewster asked behind the counter.

"Yes, please," Blathers said. "And throw in a poppy seed scone too."

Ten minutes later, and he and Brewster were sitting at a square wooden table. Blathers was picking at his scone and taking sips of coffee, listening to the sound of rain patter the awning outside.

"You're upset," Brewster said.

"Am not!" Blathers argued.

"You are. You usually gulp down that coffee in three minutes, as well as the scone. What happened?" Brewster asked.

Blathers let out a sigh. It was no use keeping it a secret from Brewster. He related to the pigeon his advising meeting struggles and how the maggots in the book had put the cherry on top to a rather awful day.

"Have you thought about what your professor said?"

"About what?"

"Becoming a curator?" Brewster asked.

"I don't know much about it," Blathers admitted.

"It may be worthwhile to look into the profession, then," Brewster said. He stood up from his chair and headed back behind the counter to pour another cup of coffee. He placed it in front of Blathers and smiled. "For you."

"On the house?" Blathers asked.

"You can take it to go, after you finish that other one, of course," Brewster said. He had resorted now to wiping off drying mugs and utensils with a towel. "I have to admit, I don't have a lot of good news to offer either."

"What's the matter with you?" Blathers asked.

"The sales still aren't doing well. This far in, I should be making more profit than I am. I can't tell if it's the decor, or the coffee, or the city atmosphere, but I won't be able to stay open much longer if this keeps up," Brewster said.

"Your coffee shop is amazing! Those city animals are foolish not to come!" Blathers told him, a bit too enthusiastically. He was a bit embarrassed to say his words with such passion.

"Thank you, but if no one else realizes that, then I don't know what's left to do," Brewster said. 

"What would you do, then? If it closed? Would you open another shop?" Blathers asked.

Brewster shook his head. "No. I'm not quite sure what I would do. I like the city, but it's tough running a business, you know. I might just find a more common job. I've already started looking at the newspapers, you know, when the time comes."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I hope things turn around," Blathers said.

"Thank you. The same to you."

With those last words spoken between them, Blathers exited the shop with his extra coffee and stared up at the rain, twinkling down from the sky onto the pavement below. He shivered slightly, as he did not often like getting his feathers wet, but walking through the rain back to his apartment while getting some sips of coffee in between were strangely soothing. He did not know what would be in store for him any time in the near future, but he hoped it would be a reflection of the hard work he had put in to his life thus far.