Crossing Over

         Why did he cross over? I don't get it. I mean, isn't this side just as good? The road goes on for miles in either direction, and there's nothing on either side but trees. I can't help but stare at him, white feathers dirtied with mud from the embankment on that side. At least this one has a sidewalk. Is there something over there that he knows about? Something that he's forgotten to inform me of? Maybe. I think about calling out to him and demanding he let me in on the secret. I reconsider, however. I'm perfectly happy marching silently on concrete. Why make myself trudge through the thick mud over there?
         I slow my pace, thinking of our differences, though I don't know why. White feathers on him, black leather and chains on me. I suppose I never noticed the contrast before now. Ah well, what difference does it make.
         I glance up and over at my counterpart, studying him across the asphalt river between us. After a moment, I realize he's watching me, and I come to a sudden conclusion. Why did he cross over that road?
         To get away from me.