Old Lady Vultures


I could feel their eyes as I sat in the lobby with my nephew. He was nine months at the time, all pudge rolls and reciprocal smiles. I was waiting for B. to come downstairs, a dear friend of the family’s who moved to an elderly living residence the year before.

The watching eyes weren’t for me. Three old ladies sat on couches in the lobby, the way old people do for hours, without moving a muscle. But something had caught their interest; they were sitting upright, perched bird-like at the edge of their seats, watching.

There were wide smiles on all three faces which made me uncomfortable. The loose skin on their faces was stretched to the limit. It looked like they were leering at us.

Well, not us. My nephew.

“Baby,” their wild eyes shrieked. They sensed a baby in their midst. They were communicating silently among themselves, calling to the others, with the promise of baby.

They were like vultures. If only I left my nephew alone, they would pounce, I was sure of it. Luckily, we decided to take the elevator up just a few minutes later, and I whisked my nephew away from, relishing in their disappointment.

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