|
ten and a half years together When you walked home from CVS, the rain was coming down hard enough to soak your hair through your baseball cap, and the bags were heavy and stretching and you hoped they wouldn't break. You took the elevator because you were too damn tired to pound up the stairs and you unlocked the door and pushed gratefully and the cat came running to greet you. There was a confusion of cat and bags and feet and door for a moment, and then you shut the door and locked it and sighed in relief. You changed clothes and tied your wet hair in a ponytail and put stuff away. You turned on the G4 and scanned some photos for future use and updated your journal, however briefly. You zoned out on MetaFilter for a while. Time passed. You started to feel strange. Alone. You noticed that the cat wasn't in her cat bed behind you, and when you went into your bedroom, she wasn't on the bed. You checked the closets where she sometimes prowls, and the space between the inner and outer shower curtains, but she was just gone. You called and waited and heard nothing. You were, very suddenly, extremely fucking worried. You unlocked the door and looked out into the hall, left-right-left, and you thought you should probably be wearing your glasses, but instead you made a quiet clicking sound with your tongue and the shadow under the fire extinguisher at the end of the hall jumped up and trotted over silently and scooted inside. You scooped her up and pressed your face against hers and fed her and gave her some catnip. You thanked whoever you periodically believe in for returning your cat. The cat spent the next hour winding herself around your legs, coating you with hair, tripping you and biting your feet. |