The duck and its needs

There was a knock at the door. I answered it. A duck looked up. I asked what it wanted. The duck asked why I hadn’t been to the lake tossing the bread crumbs. I said I’d been busy. The duck asked what I’d been doing. I said I’d been doing a lot of things.

The duck asked me if I had breadcrumbs. I said I had bread. The duck asked if he could have some. I asked if he wanted it plain, or with peanut butter. The duck’s eyes lit up and he said with peanut butter. I asked the duck to wait.

I went into the kitchen. I came back with a plate of two slices of peanut butter bread. I set the plate on the ground. The duck looked up and said thanks.

I closed the door. I sat down at my desk and wrote about what happened.

There was a knock at the door. I got up and answered. It was the duck. He had finished the meal. He asked me what I was doing. I said I was writing about my encounter with him. He asked if he could read it. I invited him in.

He read what I’d written. He asked if I would add the part about him coming in and reading the story. I said yes.