I am crow. No-one likes me though, except perhaps another crow. That is just one thing I hate about being a crow.

The buzzer sounds - and it seems to me it has the rasp of a crow’s caw. One of each previous pair moves to the next desk - I find myself facing a worm.

“Hello”, I say.  After all, one must be polite.

“Good evening,” he replies.

I ask him: “Have you come far?”

Worm responds: “No, not far.”

I thought he was going to say ‘Not far - as the crow flies” but he manages to resist.  There is that awkward, start of conversation silence. Knowing we only have five minutes, I say:

“What made you think you would like to date a crow?”

The worm thinks for a moment, and then replies:

“My friends told me I should widen my social circle.”

It's not going well, I feel.  He's such a juicy morsel, but I doubt he's looking for a one night stand.  Even a peck on the cheek would be upsetting I suspect. I say:

“And have you -”

The worm interrupts, exclaiming: “Oh, the buzzer!”.

“I don’t think I heard a buzzer.”

“Yes, I clearly heard it”

Ah, the worm is turning.

“I don’t see anyone moving.”

“I certainly am…”, he says, and wriggles under the desk.

I caw, but keep my feelings close.

You, the one who veils your mysteries in your tomb of knowledge, embrace me in your darkness, make me the death-eater. Let me pick the flesh off the ribcages of  migrants. I will devour  and possess the spirit inside. Yet, though I partake of death you not let me expire. Let me then cleanse the world, bone clean. For no one shall enter the kingdom above that invades the world below.

The buzzer sounds twice to end the event.  Some jokester jackdow, flies out of the window, cackling as he goes:

"Worms must hide their clew, magpies cease their mischief, and sparrows mend their quarrels when murdering crows pass by”.