There were three small black birds sitting on a branch of the backyard oak tree. The outer two were chirping, maybe to each other, but the middle bird stared straight ahead. It wasn’t making a peep. 

Thirty feet away on the other side of an open window facing that tree, Maggie washed a coffee mug. It was one of twenty five in her collection. What started as a college gift exchange had turned into her obsession. There were mugs from Paris, Moscow and Mumbai. There were some her friends gave her. There were quite a few purchased on Etsy after a bottle or two of wine. 

The pink one in her hand came from her best friend, Beth. It was two birthdays ago. It featured a hand-painted slug on the side in reference to her last boyfriend. An inside joke that made her giggle each time she looked at the green creature. Maggie was giving it one more sponge cycle around the inside of the cup when she felt like someone or something was watching her. She looked up from her work and saw the birds.

The two outer birds kept chirping and the middle one kept staring.