Finally, Sarah took the long trip to the doctor.  She started the car, toured the highway, and waited impatiently for her exam, hacking all the way.  The room in which she waited was cold, too, just like everywhere else, and made her shiver. Not only was it cold, but crowded.  A pimply-faced adolescent beside Sarah snapped his gum obnoxiously and plugged his ears with the rubbery tail of an iPod. His worry-stricken mother across from him pinched her eyebrows together and held her lime green handbag in a vice-like grip.  Her husband beside her bounced his knobbly knees in a leisurely way, absent mindedly humming and stroking his wife’s hand.  He leaned over and whispered something in her ear, a twinkle lighting his eye and a sleepy smile lifting his cheeks.  The woman’s deep wrinkles of concern shallowed as her face loosened; her frown became a girlish grin and she looked years younger.  The couple shared a kiss(arousing a disgusted protest from their son).  Sarah merely looked down and fiddled with her wedding band.

“Sarah McKonnor?”  called a hollow-sounding voice from the receptionist with the phone in her ear, nose-deep in her computer screen.  Sarah stood and made her way through the aisles of chairs and toward the office door, doing her best not to trip over the fellow-patient feet draped across her path.

The nurse was a young girl, fresh out of college, with a ring on her finger and a hope in her heart.  Her chipper voice and bubbly smile conveyed an outgoing newlywed attitude, and no one she had ever come across could say the quite disliked her.  However, the amicable nurse had met her match in Sarah that day.

“Could I have you step over here for your height and weight, Mrs. McKonnor?”

“I’m a ‘Miss’.”

“Oh? Alright. MissMcKonnor?” She smiled charmingly and gestured for Sarah to step onto the scale while clamping papers onto a clipboard covered in cartoony thermometer stickers.

Grudgingly, Sarah slipped off her flats and stepped up onto the machine, wincing at the cold metal as it met her bare skin. Sarah frowned as the little red needle sped past the “150 Ibs” mark to land in less favorable territory.

“Mmm.” The thin, pretty nurse mumbled, pressing her tongue into her cheek, eyebrows pinched in pity, and she made a mark on her papers.  Sarah fiddled with her ring again, betting all she had that the blond had never weighed more than one-hundred twenty pounds before. “We’re in exam room twelve, Mrs.–er, MissMcKonnor.”

Sarah shuffled into the room and lifted herself onto the examination table, wishing with all her heart that her nurse would leave.

“Alright, so what is bothering you today?  Sore throat? Vomiting?”

‘Your high pitched squeak of a voice for one…’ Sarah thought, but didn’t dare say.

Sarah pushed down her disdain for the woman and ran through her symptoms, listing them as if reciting a particularly riveting section of Webster’s. She described the painful coughing fits and the wheezy breathing which followed.  She told her of all the nights she’d woken in a sweat with a fever. Of how no amount of blankets could bring coveted warmth to her shoulders and back.  How her chest always felt so heavy.

The nurse only nodded, scribbling her bubbly letters onto Sarah’s exam papers, then looked up and smiled.

“Okay! We’ll swab your throat for strep, but this sounds a bit like pneumonia. Dr. Throbb will be in in a moment to confirm!”

Sarah frowned, but kept her mouth shut about how one shouldn’t look so happy around one so sick. How one shouldn’t keep a joyful sound in one’s voice while talking to someone so miserable.  However, Sarah remained silent about all that as she waited for what seemed like an hour for five minutes of a doctor’s time to tell her what the nurse already knew: she had pneumonia. But none-the-less, Sarah waited. And waited. And waited.

Finally, just as the ailing woman had dropped from her perch on the table to leave, a quirky, middle-aged man with gray hair and bright brown eyes shuffled into the room.  He peeked over his half-moon spectacles to examine Sarah, the spark of wisdom reflected in his face. “Hello, Mrs. McKonnor, I’m Dr. Throbb.” She winced at his use of honorific, and noticed that, for a man in his mid-forties, Dr. Throbb seemed so much older than he was. His smile lines and worry wrinkles matched each other in depth and the beginnings of liver spots sprinkled his pale arms and balding head, leaving Sarah to wonder if she was mistaken in her guess of his age.

“It seems as though you have acquired an H1N1 virus, Mrs. McKonnor. Other wise known as–” Dr. Throbb went on, but Sarah’s world froze with fear.

“The nurse told me I had pneumonia.” She said stiffly, trying to keep her voice from shaking. The doctor nodded his head slowly, touching his pen to his lips, mind elsewhere now that he’d delivered his patient his news.

“Yes, we considered that. However, when the strep test was negative, I thought I’d better test you for the Swine Flu, and…” His voice faded away as Sarah’s heartbeat quickened.

“I’m going to die?” the sound of Sarah’s voice audibly rose in pitch, and she collapsed into the doctor’s swivel chair, head in hands. Dr. Throbb looked down at her in concern, a frown upon his wrinkled face.

“Why, no, my dear.  The H1N1 virus is the same as any other influenza. It merely requires the proper care, and then–poof– all gone.”

Sarah looked away from the doctor, twisting her ring about her finger uneasily. She wasn’t about to believe this man. This stranger.  Beyond that twinkle in his eye Sarah could tell he was untrustworthy. That he would be unsympathetic.  People could die from this… this… Swine Flu. She knew that one from experience.

“I’m afraid you don’t know what you are talking about, Dr. Throbb. People die from this thing.” Sarah fought the tears pushing at the corners of her eyes, and resisted the consequential urge to cough. Yes. People died from this, and he–this supposed practitioner of medicine– was denying it. Making light of it. Pretending like it never happened.

“Same with any other influenza.” He sighed, pushing his glasses back to the top of his nose and scribbling something on a peice of paper, “But there’s nothing for that. You know, someone once said, ‘It’s an unfair life, but it is certainly one worth living.’ I think it was that author…Abby Gale. Ever heard of her?”

“No.”

“Too bad.  But it’s one of the truest statements I’ve ever heard.” Anger rose in the pit of Sarah’s stomach, it’s heat contrasting pleasantly against the cold in her chest, almost making her forget she was ill. She removed her wedding band and threw it on the ground, ignoring how nauseated the movement made her.

“What do you know?! Did someone you love die from H1N1?!” The doctor was still, which Sarah took as surprise at her sudden action. She felt a wave of dark pleasure pass through her bones at the thought of scaring this man. Or… was that the feeling of a swoon coming on? She closed her eyes to keep herself from throwing up, but continued talking. “They told us the same things you’re telling me now. That the virus rarely kills someone. But it killed Charlie. MyCharlie. Don’t tell me ‘It’s no big deal’. It is.”  Sarah looked away from his face deliberately, glanced over the floor, searching for where the ring had landed, and realized it lay beside his polished worn-leathered shoe. He bent over and picked it up, eyes downcast.

“Ms. McKonnor, I’m sorry for your loss. That’s a hard thing to go through.  However…” He lifted her palm in his, and purposefully placed it into the willowy woman’s palm. He looked in her eyes, sincerity on his face. “…I want to let you know that life is worth living if you still have something to live toward.” He closed her hand around the ring, and opened the door to the exam room, holding her gaze all the while.  Finally, he looked away as he closed the door and Sarah was left all alone.

She sat in the swivel chair for a long time, thinking about what had just occurred. About how bright his milky brown eyes had been. About how the doctor’s gray hair had an air of wisdom about it, and how his left hand was barren of jewelry.  Maybe Sarah McKonnor would have something to live for from now on.

After all, she was only forty-two.

Blithe-the calf longed to peek

outside the byre, into the cybele to seek

gifts agogo,meadows-lush green

wonders of wonders,yet to be seen

to abnegate is not bish but a sin

mother dear’s heart,the calf needed to win

nature’s bounty,singing praise

chaff were all,mother dear says

chagrin aplenty but futile all

mother dear would neither heed nor fall

when brume hugged the morning sky

lept off the calf;tricked the watchful eye

mother dear’s faint clamant fell on the ears

but the calf cared least;had no more fears

abonmarche,eat all you want

mowing all day with no fears to haunt

hours,days and weeks flew by

all the zeal and zest began to die

cogitated the calf “how’s mother dear?”

“you are selfish” the trees seemed to jeer

the calf galloped back to witness a sight!

mother dear gone;the cosy byre in blight

“have you seen mother dear?tell me Aegir”

“she has been burked,that’s all I hear”

“no!that can’t be true;Aeolus, you ought to know”

whispered he “she’s cervelat by now”

“forget all that happened,come-sing and play with us”

the calf jumped to the pyre shocking Aegir and Aeolus

“halt!do not do so oh little one…”

“I have to.waiting for me is ABADDON”

And it seems to slay my dreams
And in their stead leave blind
Mine own two eyes to that one prize
My soul doth seek to find

Still I pray that night gives way
And cures this circumstance
That captive holds my weary soul
Within it’s darkened trance

And perhaps lay loose the straps
That bind me to this cross
And free from round my neck now bound
This curs’ed albatross

The kids were playing loudly.
While the adults were sleeping soundly.

The weather was rainy and foggy.
The ground was wet and soggy.

The dog began his barking.
As the sky began darkening.

The kids ran inside.
Their Easter eggs to find.

The adults woke up in time.
To hear this little rhyme.

(Part 1)

It was 6:57 p.m. and the sun was starting to hide below the mountaintops. The sky, though it had rained a while ago, was a light blue and pink with little cotton balls drifting slowly towards the horizon.
“James!” Cried Kristine from the window holding little Edward in her arms as the child looked up at her with a face of curiosity.” James! Get in here, Edward needs more milk formula and I would go for it before he gets cranky out of hunger.” The child gave a small smile to his mother.
Edward was very smart for his seven months of life. He was like a deer in the meadow after he sensed trouble and would begin to fuss, and yet somehow he knew when his father James was being scolded and would giggle hysterically, causing his parent to laugh with him. Even though we was born with cardio problems, Edward was a charming and joyous baby boy that captured everyone’s heart with just one look at his angelic-like face. He had his father’s handsome features: dark hair, a small perfectly straight nose, and a nicely formed mouth. From his mother he carried the big almond-shaped hazel eyes with the long, full, and curly lashes as well as the smile with the cute dimples on his pink chubby cheeks.
“Yes?” James called out as he entered the small apartment’s front door.        

“Edward needs more milk powder and it’s almost time for his nap. He won’t sleep without his bottle, you know that.” Kristen said as she gave her husband a small peck on the lips. Though they were in there early 20′s, James and Kristine loved each other dearly that even though they had financial problems almost always, they would find a way to make it through together without a single argument.
“How come your barely telling’ me? I was kinda counting on those 20 bucks for the lighting bill?” He said in a worried tone as he fiddled with his hands in front of him.
“Well don’t worry you don’t have to spend them; we just got the stamp card refilled. We don’t need to slow down our payments again…” Kristine replied.
“Oh well that’s awesome, ’cause then all we got left is the rent of the apartment and then we can just chill for a while”. His face stretched into a smile. Then he looked at his son that was babbling to himself with a frown on his face. “He sure is talkative,” He chuckled to himself as he took Edward from his mother’s arms and examined his face carefully, as seeing him for the very first time.” He is the most precious thing in my life. Aside of you hun… when’s his next check-up?”

“The seventeenth of October: next month”, Kristine remarked. Edward started to fuss. “And there he goes,” she said as she took Edward from James, “Better bring it fast so that Edward can fall sleep and we can eat. And bring sodas or something cold to drink too please, love?”

“I’m on it my love”. He kissed Edward tenderly on his small forehead and walked slowly to the door, then looked back at his wife. He had a melancholy look in his eyes and for and instant, only an instant, he looked weak and fragile though he had a built body from his job at the construction site.

“Kristine?” She looked up from the baby. “Yes?”

“I love you.”

Kristine smiled. “I love you to James”. She walked over to him and kissed his mouth, and then whispered “Always and forever more baby”, in his ear, then looked at him and smiled. He smiled weakly and walked out the door.

(Part 2)

It had been a good while since James had left the house to go to the store that was merely a mile or so away. The sky had darkened and a few sparkles appeared little by little here and there.   Edward, tired of crying, fell asleep in his mother’s arms while she gave him tea so that his head wouldn’t hurt later on. This was the first time James had taken more than 30 minutes shopping for anything and Kristine was so nervous she kept walking around the house like soldier on duty. Her heart told her that something was terribly wrong, making her eyes water up slowly.

She put the child in her bed gently and went to the front door to see if James was back. Nobody but the moon was outside with her. It was dark and everything looked like a black and white picture. Something was not right indeed. James, she thought to herself, Where are you my love, were…The ache in her heart got stronger and stronger that tears silently slipped down her rosy cheeks.  She had stepped inside the house and into the kitchen were the food that she had cooked earlier chilled more and more.” So much for chicken soup…” she murmured.

Then there was an intense knock on the door. Kristine jumped as they kept knocking harder. She opened the door to see to officers stranding outside her home. Panic seized Kristine as her feet weakened. She stood still in shock as salience’s sheet covered the night.   “Mrs. Summers?” The first officer with a huge mustache an orangey red started, “I’m officer Campos and this is officer Silva”, he continued as the other officer nodded in Kristine’s direction. “I’m sorry we have some bad news for you ma’am…”

Well there’s a first, Kristine cynically thought. She stared hypnotically in his eyes, tight in every muscle, waiting to hear the bad news numbly.

“There was an accident two blocks from here, between 4th ST. and Apple Ave. The driver from 4Th St. was in a stupor and literally ran over a man that apparently was picking up this card up from the ground,” Said officer Campos, handing the Welfare card to Kristine and she held it tight in her grip as if she was waiting for it to pop. “The drunk man unfortunately had a ‘monster truck’”, continued Officer Silva,” and went right over your…husband’s body. He destroyed his body to pieces and its unrecognizable… he’s head was detached from the body as it got caught in between the tires. And because of this we highly suggest that you burn his… him”, he finished and looked away from Kristine’s cold eyes. Tears were streaming freely from her beautiful pale face.

“Ma’am?” said officer Campos, “Ma’am? Are you feeling okay? Silva, go get her something cold to drink. Fast!”  Kristine smiled faintly,” We don’t have anything cold to drink…” and closed the door on both of the officers’ faces.

Once nobody knocked, she let it out…”No… She whispered… “No…No… No…!!! James! You can’t be dead no, my love, you can’t you just can’t be!!! No! I love you baby I love you!! James… no… I love you!” by now she had let her back slide down from the front door and sat on the floor as she wept.” What about our baby… what about Edward…?” Edward! She had barely remembered him when, as if he had been called on, he started to cry. Kristine got up from the floor and went over to the child, hers and James’…
She picked him up from the silky red blankets that covered the whole bed. “My baby, our baby James…” she whispered into the Edward’s ears as he complained in an angry baby-talk tone. He, without knowing it, had become an orphan. Kristine cried silently as she peered down on Edward; He truly was his father’s image… He was her all now.
Edward let out another cry, telling his mother he needed a dipper change, and she sat him down on the bed once more. She went into the kitchen and went over to the counter and opened the left side of the cabinet when she saw it. There, next to the dippers, was a can of milk formula.
Kristine just stared at it for a moment as she remembered that she had thrown the empty can away that very same morning. But this one was new, still with the price tag on it. She grabbed it and felt its heaviness, indicating Kristine that it was full, but how did it get there? Nobody ever visited them and if so, why would they leave a can of milk formula? Under the can there was an envelope and she picked it up slowly with her trembling fingers. It read Kristine on the cover…with James handwriting.
Edward let out another yelp that made Kristine jump and her heart beat fast. She would change Edward’s dipper, give him his bottle and then read whatever was inside that envelope.
(Part 3)
It was really late when Kristine had finally gotten Edward to fall asleep, which was almost a miracle. The child solemnly fell asleep when his father sang his lullaby he made up for him since he was brought home.”…so don’t cries my child, the night is here, time to close your eyes, remember daddy will always be here…”
Kristine went to the kitchen and picked up the envelope slowly. She was nervous, anxious to open it and read whatever was inside of it, yet scared she would regret it. She lingered with it in her hands for about 20 minutes until she decided to open it. How was she suppose to know what was inside of it if she didn’t open it?
“The hell with it” she said and pulled it out all the way, then unfolded it. She took a deep breath, her heart racing. It was long for one thing, and so it began:

My Love
By the time you read this letter I’m probably cold as stone…

What! Kristine’s heartbeat fastened. James knew he was going to die? Why didn’t he prevent it from happening? Anger arose from her sadness but kept reading.

I’m sorry for the pain I caused you and I ask on my knees to forgive me. I must explain though. First, Yes I did planned to die today, but I must admit I do not know how, just that it’s inevitable. And of course you’re asking yourself why. The answer is simple: money. As you know, my father was a very rich man. In his will he left everything to my name, yet my mother made me choose between you and all the riches; and so money comes and goes, as for love, that’s a lifetime opportunity and so I chose you. I had this planned out well. Before today I had gone to a notary and did my own will and put everything under both yours and our beloved Edward’s name. You see I had to do it. Edward is sick and all bills are too high even with the help of the state. We hardly ever had money and it made life difficult. Yet don’t take me wrong, my love, I was happy with you and our little boy. But I did it for you guys. Now my deepest love, don’t be sad. Remember I will always be with you through spirit. Whenever you look at Edward, remember me. When he hugs or kisses you, I will be in every one of them, and when he learns to talk and says “I love you”, remember I love you, bbylove, always and forever…

Truly, Deeply, and Forever
Yours,
James

P.S. I remember what my mother said to me the day I walked out…”You can’t live without money… money makes the world go round…” she was right… Money wins all the time.

Kristine stared at the paper for a moment as if trying to fully understand what she had just read. Her heart ached. James was her love, the only good thing in her life before Edward. Now she cried and cried because he was forever far out of her reach… Never again will she stare in his bright eyes and cuddle in his arms and lay her head on his chest and hear his heart beat… ”How am I going to live without you?” she screamed. She took another look at it and its last words. This letter was the last she would ever receive from him. She read his signature over and over again. Then she smiled faintly. “No my love, your wrong. Love won this time. Love won…<3″

Stereotypes

Devan:  It’s happening again! She all over me!

Felicia: Who? Maria Jose?

Devan: Yes, Maria Jose! She’s so stubborn! You know what she tried to do today? Kiss             me! (Felicia giggles). It’s not funny!

Felicia: You can’t teach an old dog new trick. She’s used to getting every guy she wants, it’s hard for her to let you go. She thinks she has what it takes to make you             straight.

Devan: Ewww, no thanks. Why doesn’t she hit on Jerry, he’s gay too.

Felicia: Because he’s gay, gay. (Laughs) You’re just gay.

Devan: See that’s the problem. People stereotype gay boys to be all wannabe girls that       move their hips like this when they walk (he does the walk). Omg! I think I just       broke my nail!

Felicia: Thank god you don’t (laughs). I’d slap you if you did. And well I suggest that you             leave because she’s coming over soon.

Devan: (stops messing around and looks shocked at her) Are you serious? I invited James             over and he’s almost here, too! (Doorbell rings and they stare at each other for a     second, frozen in place.) I’ll get it. Might as well get over with it.

(He walks to the door and Maria Jose stands there and gives him a magnanimous             smile.)

Maria Jose: Devan! What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t going to be home    after school?

Devan:  (Between his teeth as M. J. invites herself in and sits next to Felicia) Well if I’d        known you were going to come-

Felicia: …He would have stayed a bit longer right, Devan? (Gives him a deadly stare) He             was about to…(door bell rings) open the door.

(D gets the door and sees James with his tight undershirt with green pants and a cowboy hat in his hand.)

James: Hey! Sorry I’m late, I was almost here when I remembered I still had you your             cowboy hat from the Halloween party on Saturday. (Devan leads him into the             living room where Maria Jose and Felicia stop there chat and laughter and stare at             James.)

Devan: Don’t worry about it; I seriously wouldn’t have an issue if you were an hour late.

Maria Jose: Ohh-la-la. Call 911 ’cause this boy is on fire. (She stands up from the couch             and smiles as James stand in front of her.)

Devan: She’s Maria Jose Sarah De Los Calientes De los Smith-

Maria Jose: …but you can just call me Maria Jose, (Smiles and holds out her hand) and             you are?

James: I’m James Milk, pleasure to meet you.

Maria Jose: Oh, trust me, the pleasure is all mine. Do you work in construction by any             chance?

James: No I’m actually a Waste Management Technician as a side job to pay for collage,             why?

Maria Jose: You have a great body, so I figured you worked with the local construction             company or something…(She squeezes his biceps, James starts to fiddle with his             car keys.)

James: Um. Thanks. (Looks at Devan.)

Devan: Yes. Thanks, (irritated) but my boyfriend and me have things to do if you don’t             mind. (He grabs James by the arm and away from Maria Jose and into his room.)

Maria Jose: His boyfriend? You mean he’s gay to? (Sits down on the couch                             disappointed.)

Felicia: Yup. Hot isn’t he?  (Smiles at M. J.)

Maria Jose: Are all the good guys going gay now? Because if they are, I better enlist in a             nunnery already.

Felicia: You would first kill yourself Maria Jose. You would never give up boys.

Maria Jose: Right. But I mean, I thought gay people were supposed to be ugly or stupid   or something, not hunks.

Felicia: (With an angry tone and stands up staring at M.J.) Well my brother isn’t anything             of that now is he? He’s a great guy. Just because he’s gay doesn’t mean he’s out of             this planet. I mean you’re all over him and you wont leave him alone even though he’s gay.

Maria Jose: (stands up) I don’t mean to make you mad. It’s just we live in a world were               being gay is…

Felicia: Wrong, gross, disgusting, abnormal, immoral, against god’s law?

Maria Jose: (Whisper) Yes…

Felicia: Well this world is full of hypocrites now isn’t it? People kill, rape, steal, kidnap,             and do all those other horrible crimes. Yet what do people do? Point their dirty             finger at others that are different from them to hide their own fault.

Maria Jose: Wow… I didn’t think you felt so strong about gay rights…(embarrassed)

Felicia: I support my brother; he doesn’t really do anything against any law. “Throw the             first stone if you’re free of sin”. I know I’m not.

Maria Jose: Me either… Okay I get your point. (Hesitates) I’ll leave Devan and his hot             body alone. Happy now? (Sits down and smiles.)

Felicia: AND James too?

Maria Jose: AND the boyfriend too. (Smile)

Felicia: Okay, (she sits next to M.J.) we better finish our project for biology. (Stops and       looks around) Where’s your backpack?

Maria Jose: I hate backpacks.

Felicia: (Sighs) You will never change. (Giggles) So how come you were so early to class             today? Eric was so excited to see you already waiting for him in class.

Maria Jose: Ewww… Eric is like the biggest geek ever. My brother had to work earlier t            oday. His lunatic driving got me at school in plenty of time.

Scene

It’s a question asked when one doesn’t get the joke.

At least for a man with no sense of the actual world around him, his own personal thoughts drowned him.

So caught up in his own personal love frenzy, bathing in his self indulgence.

Lives life through a screen and every day dives deeper into the things that make him scream, when awake in the day he feels as a raining king.

But when his head hits the pillow all the dreams and aspirations willow, falling deeper down the rabbit hole of what is but humanity dished on a silver platter, is his life just chatter?

I see a man do nothing, yet claims everything. I see a man receive in a time of need, then only ask for more

I’ve seen women give in and cheat over and over again, I’ve seen men break hearts from across countries wide spread apart, I’ve seen men piss on art and praise a life of a subatomic plague of self praise.

Nose’s have gotten so high and tall that I can actually see your hairs and all. The sight is bad, to bad you gone mad, couldn’t tell, now your look in the mirror, and say it’s not me don’t worry.

Then in the back of your head a small whisper says “when your dead, what’s gonna be said, what’s gonna be read?

As you descend what will it be worth then, if you sat around, waiting for the next hero to come save you or your town?

Why not yourself, put beyond your own health and excel and fight through the pits of hell.

I’ve seen a man loose it all, I’ve seen a mother break down on her son’s coffin, I’ve seen kids behind chain link fences, their sprits never so defenseless.

I’ve seen a kid get left out cause his stomach was just a hair too stretched out. I’ve seen a soldier stand proud, stand tall, then kill innocent children and laugh it off.

I’ve seen a man you call “father” molest, rape and kidnap his own “daughter”, you call it sanctuary, i say stay away from it johnny it’s scary.

I’ve been to meetings were all the talk is dollar amounts and how to eliminate the economic drought, I’ve been to the streets where a man who once ran in an election is now on the corner begging for collection, cause the drugs took him another direction.

A common misconception is the one at the reception of a couple happily married three years later a divorce attorney.

I’ve seen cities burning, one’s mind constantly turning, inwards, outwards, play on words, whatever gets you out of the forest lil red.

Hood covering your face as you make your way back to the place that you call home, where grandma makes you the chicken stew only today when you arrive it will be you that’s burning alive cause grandma’s dead and your now staying in the devils den, the wolf putting on a show, by the time you know its too late, run, GO!

In the school’s they say take care of the problem, let the councilors solve them.

What have them if they can’t help out the youth without respect.

Its what we have become, because the generation before them has been out done, no longer needed as they advance to future, we are the generation you see in the movies, no, no, this isn’t the goonies. But give it some time, look & rewind for a moment, cherish it and behold it, then think when was the last time you watched the sunrise through such innocent eyes, or saw a cloud shape into something your imagination let you create?

What’s so funny?

I’ve seen a man die for a cause that he believed in, through and through. I’ve seen a single mom change her daughters life for the right, I’ve seen a man fight, not for pleasure but for freedom, I saw a man dance away his pain with his love call it his eden.

I’ve seen a man stop and say hello to someone who was looking low, that guy got inspired and is now a CEO, and hired the man who said hello what do ya know, the world goes round, and even in times of darkness I still see light in the smallest corners in sight, if you look you will see just as me.

Two star-crossed lovers that everyone said they didn’t belong, but in the end they were all wrong.

I’ve seen a man donate his life just so he could save his wife, so she could see their kids grow up to be big, now thats something that takes your breath away.

It’s when you go beyond yourself to help others, thats when others will open their eyes and start to see each other.

The joke is…well if you don’t get it, then i guess your asking hey Kavan why ya laughin?

“So often, when we are absolutely convinced we are right, we are not that right at all,” I said.

“Really?” Kuheli raised her eyebrows.

My friend is an open-minded woman. She is always eager to learn, always ready to hear a different perspective. Her relationship of two years had recently ended, and thought she was okay with it by then, the wounds had not yet fully healed. The memories of fights with her ex-fiancee were still fresh. She would relive them again and again in her mind wondering if there was something she could have done differently. “Was there another way?” she’d ask herself, arriving each time at the same answer. No. she had been right. She had handled it correctly. She was making sure her needs were met, and no, she wasn’t selfish and unreasonable. It was her boyfriend who had been stubborn and childish, while she was simply respecting.

“So what you are saying is when we are sure we are right, we are actually wrong?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said. “Not wrong as an absolute, but certainly not ‘right.’” I knew I need to explain myself.  “Give me an example,” I said, “of a situation in your relationship in which there is no question in your mind that you were right. It can be something seemingly minor, it really doesn’t matter. What’s the first thing that comes to mind?”

Kuheli chukled, “Oh, that’s easy”, she said. “How about this one? He moves in with me, and you know, my place is small. I have to go through the kitchen to get to my office.

Now both of us are working from home, he and I. and he would not wash the dishes after himself! Everytime I went through the kitchen or into the kitchen, I would see his dirty dishes in the sink. And it was driving me crazy, I can’t stand dirty dishes. It upsets me. I never leave dishes unwashed out there in the sink. I asked him again and again not to do it. To wash them after he’s eaten, so I don’t have to look at his mess and be irritated. I asked him nicely. I joked about it. I asked him seriously. I explained to him why I need it. I got very angry. And still-he  would not do it!! Now-it was my place. He moved in with me. Who did he think I was?!! His mother?!! She caught herself and stopped. “It’s water under the bridge now, but don’t you think I was right about it?”

“What did he say to you?” I asked. “Why wouldn’t he do it?”

“He said it interrupted his flow. He liked to get back to work immediately after eating and that he would wash everything in the evening. In the mean time, I was not supposed to pay attention to such small things.”

She was getting anxious just remembering that time, I put my hand on her knee.

“Look,” I said. “I just guide you a process which is I think brilliant. Would you like to try it?”

“Sure,” Kuheli said.

“Tell me again how it made you feel, when he wouldn’t do hid dishes,” I said.

“Oh, I felt angry, I felt like…. As if he didn’t care about me. Like it didn’t matter what I needed, it didn’t matter at all. And that he did not respect me. If he respected me, he would never threat me this way. Never. I felt he treated me as if I were his mother, for his equal partner.” She stopped and took a deep breath. “Yes. That’s how I felt every time I passed through the kitchen.”

I waited. But she seemed suddenly exhausted. “Anything else?” I asked.

“That pretty much sums it up.”

“Okay,” I said. “Now tell me something. Think about it and tell me: Was what you felt really true?”

She paused. I could see her face changing. With her eves closed she was reliving her experience one more time looking at it from a different angle.

“No,” she said finally. “It’s not true.  I don’t think he thought that at all.”

I could see she was amazed. Startled, perhaps, by what she had just said. She was looking at her hands, waiting for what I had to say next.

“All right,” I said. Let’s go back again. When you thought he didn’t respect you or care about you, how did that make you feel?”

Kuheli looked up. “How did it make me feel?” I was angry. I was so angry I couldn’t breathe. I was unhappy. I was irritated, I would look at him at his desk working, and the kitchen was full of dirty dishes, and I would just be fuming inside.”

“Good,” I said. “Now we know what you felt, and we know what you thought were his reason for not washing the dishes. And we also know-it wasn’t true. So now-let’sturn it around. You thought he did not respect you, didn’t  care about you, and treated you as if you were his mother, not his equal partner. Take this-and turn it around. Turn it into an opposite.”

Kuheli concentrated. I could see her mind working, turning things around. Suddenly her voice dropped and she almost whispered, “You mean-turn it all around?”

“Yes,” I ssid. “Say it out loud.”

What she said then-stunned us both.

“I didn’t respected him,” she said. “ I thought he was immature. I didn’t care about what was important for him… Oh, my God…” she covered her eyes with her hands. “I treated him as if he were a child, not a man. I did not respect him. I didn’t. I was mean. I would diminish him. I would make him so small…” she couldn’t talk

I pulled her towards me and hold her as she cried.

“I never saw it before,” she whispered. I could see it was hard for her to speak. “I am sorry Rahul, I am sorry….”

She moved away from me, reaching for the tissue paper and put it to her face. “He was so tender, so loving…. So young in many ways, and yes, I believed he was too immature, and it bothered me. I was even getting bored. I needed to leave the house and just be by myself to feel good again sometimes. I have always been very independent and responsible. Sand I didn’t think he was. I didn’t know how to tell him, so I do angrier and angrier. I knew it couldn’t work between us. We were too different. And I didn’t went to admit it to myself. So I punished him.” She put her hand to her chest. “It’s so painful to see it. But I feel like something is releasing right here,” she pointed to her heart, where her hand was resting. “I can’t believe I never saw it. I was so sure it was him.”

I took her hand in mine and held it.

“It hurts so much to see it. But –it’s as if we’ve just lanced a boil.”

“And now it can heal.” I said. “Now you can let go, forgive yourself and let go.”

Though her tears Kuheli nodded and sighed. “Yes,” she said smiling now, “Thank you.”

“By the way, Kuheli never washes her dishes either,’ I said and smiled. “But my first husband did. He washed everything after each meal. I never needed to ask. And he brought me breakfast in bed all the time. And he always brought mr roses. In fact, the worse our marriage got, the more flowers I received. I was drowning in roses at one time. He even came to mediation meeting with my attorney and the financial adviser she had invited (both of them-women) with bouquets of roses. One for each of us. You should have seen the faces of these women. It didn’t save our marriage though. I was miserable and so was he.”

“He doesn’t wash the dishes?” Kuheli was incredulous. “And you are okay with it?”

“Absolutely. He will help me with them if I ask,  but a general it is not something he does. Don’t think I didn’t try,” I laughed. ”I went through he entire process with it. I would get angry, he would promise to wash them, and he would wash them, but then he would forget to wash them then next time, or he would start washing them, but not finish and go do something else. I was fulling out my hair. I was like you were with Rahul in way. And then I stopped myself. I realized-it was not malicious. I realized he really didn’t like to wash them. I realized it didn’t matter to him whether they were washed or not. If I were to leave them in the sink for days, he would barely notice. His mind is somewhere lese, on th things he is passionate about, and order in the kitchen isn’t one of them. I realized that it mattered to me, but not to him. And-most impotant –I realized that he was doing a tremendous amount of other things for me and for us and for our life together all the time. He was my full partner in everything, and that’s what mattered, not who did or did not the dishes. Well, I saw all that and decided to was the dishesmyself!”

Morgan sat in front of the Safeway for an hour before her mother called. Her Support our Troops sign still stood and her donation box was half-full. Pure devious genius, that’s how her father described it when he pulled her closer to whisper the idea, his breath moistening her lobe.

She brushed her hair back behind an ear and smiled as a smirking man placed a can of Green Giant, cream-style corn in her box.

He stared from behind a set of dim blue eyes. His lips quivered as if he wanted to say something.

She looked away and raised an eyebrow, leaving the smile on her face to be polite, but praying he didn’t ask for her number. The guy puffed a disappointed laugh through his nose before he walked off into the parking lot.

Her smile faded to a frown as the man left, and she picked up the can of food. Ugh, I hate cream corn. Couldn’t he give something better?

She tossed the corn back in her box and it clonked against another metal can. She took out her cell phone to check the time, but just holding the device caused her mother’s sobbing words to echo in her head.

A lump swelled the back of her throat and she almost felt guilty. Maybe if she hadn’t made that promise, she’d still have a perfect life.

She knew she had to go see her mother, but she didn’t know how to solve the issue. She wasn’t God or a witch, so resurrecting the dead was out of the question, but there was still a solution to every problem. She had solved her lack-of-money dilemma by suing a fast food restaurant for traumatizing her life with a cockroach chicken nugget, a nugget that took her three hours to craft; she had solved her eating problem with a believable sign and a cardboard box, and it had been two years since she’d purchased her own meal; and now she would solve this new crisis as well.

“Hello there young lady,” said a woman with a cigarette-scarred larynx. “It really warms my heart to see people like you out here doing what you’re doing.”

As she looked up at the woman, a breeze carried Morgan’s hair to the side of her head. The cool air made her sniff and wipe her eyes as she forced a smile for the lady. Despite the look and sound of the woman, her sincerity was obvious. It was people like her that made Morgan wish she didn’t do what she did. They made her want to be a better person.

The woman dropped an entire bag of groceries into the box.

Though she was tricking her, the woman’s generosity still made Morgan happy. She said thank you, and the woman nodded, walking away as she pulled out a pack of cigarettes from her purse.

Morgan looked to the horizon. The sun sat high in his blue throne, but did not serve much of a purpose aside from illuminating his kingdom.

Time to go, she thought as a gust of wind picked up her hair and moved it like a flag on a car antenna.

The plastic lawn chair scraped against the pavement when she scooted back to grab the cardboard box of goodies. She took down her Support Our Troops sign and placed it on the table. She mumbled the names of various items as she rummaged through her box, and couldn’t hold back the smile when she realized that the day’s gatherings would last her at least another week.

She folded up the table and went inside the Safeway store. The plump manager took it and stashed it in the back room, running back to habitually ask her out to dinner before she left. As he stood before her, his rotund cheeks sprinkled light red with embarrassment, she pressed her lips together and routinely said no, thanking him again for allowing her to use the table and the space in front of the store.

“Anything for the troops,” he yelled to her back as she walked out the door. “See you next time.”

Her shoes clip clopped as she walked down the crowded city sidewalk and she was reminded of why she missed her mother. Her mother’s house was a few miles away and placed in a perfect suburban oasis. The streets were rarely filled with cars; the walkways were barely used for walking; and the green of nature still had prevalence over the concrete. But it had been two years since she visited.

She made it back to her apartment and set her box in the kitchen. She tossed the sign on the sofa and started going through her bounty. After she was finished restocking her supplies, she went to the refrigerator and grabbed a half-empty can of turkey.

When she was situated, she pulled out her phone to check the time again. Memories of her mother’s conversation dripped back into her ears and she started thinking of solutions.

Since the death of her father two years ago, Morgan’s mother had clutched onto every living attachment like a leech. Her husband had been the family’s everything, and no one blamed her for how hard she took it, especially not Morgan. Her mother was never a strong woman, and she knew that even the tiniest bit of negativity could bury her in a muck of depression.

When Morgan’s mother called and said the family cat was pawing on death’s door, Morgan knew that disaster was as sure as the ebb and flow of the sea. The cat had replaced Morgan’s father, and if it died too Morgan didn’t know what would happen to her.

As Morgan finished the last lump of turkey, the idea sailed into her skull. She rinsed the fork off in the sink as she tried to think of nearby pet shelters. As she thought, she realized that she hadn’t been to an actual pet shelter and needed to look up one.

After a few confused discoveries about the differences between pet stores and pet shelters, she found what she was looking for. The closest shelter was only 30 minutes away from her mother’s house.

She changed her clothes, grabbed her Gucci purse, and hopped into her leased car. As the leather seats embraced her, she realized that the lease was almost up and she would need a job if she wanted to get around. Her Give Money to the Children in Africa trick would only last for so long before people caught on and stopped making donations.

As she rode to the pet shelter, holding her Mapquest directions against the steering wheel and listening to a Polka CD that someone had thrown in her Support Our Troops box, she tried to figure out a way to switch the soon-to-be adopted cat for the soon-to-be deceased one. She couldn’t just waltz into her mother’s house with a new pussy and expect her mother not to be sad about the old one. She had to be sneaky. If she could switch the cats without her mother knowing, then maybe the distress would leave her mother’s heart. Mom would be happy and would live for a bit longer.

On the way to a pet shelter, Morgan noticed an easier path. A sign that read Cheap Pets dangled out the side of a barn-like structure. The brick-red building had a one-space parking lot, and looked a little shady, but Morgan needed quick results. A pet shelter might make her wait a day or two, and she didn’t have the time.

An ominous tree was rooted beside the barn, but aside from this there was a 50-foot gap between it and other trees. The grass around the barn bent away from the structure, and the trees on the 50-foot line were bare. It was as if life was fleeing from the place.

She pulled into the only space, grabbed her purse, locked her car, and walked inside. She stopped at the front desk. The grey countertop was cold, and a sticky film stuck to Morgan’s elbows as she rested on it. A teenage or early twenties girl was at the register, and she eyed the Gucci purse for a while before she spoke.

“Hello. How can I help you?” said employee.

“Do you have any cats?”

“Why wouldn’t we? We have a sign that clearly says cheap pets, how could we not have cats?”

“Can I see them?” she said, pursing her lips together, slowly blinking and trying to calm her heart.

“Do you want to take one home?”

Morgan couldn’t help but smirk, but she was in no way amused. She lowered her head and raised an eyebrow at the employee as she folded her arms across her chest. She looked down at her name tag. “Look, Sally, why do you think I’m asking about the cats?”

“I don’t know. I’m not a mind reader.”

Morgan held up her hands and raised both eyebrows. “Yes, I want to take a cat home,” she said, gritting her teeth and barely opening her lips.

“Follow me.”

Morgan rolled her eyes when the employee turned her back to open a metal gate. She started walking and Morgan followed. They maneuvered down a dark hallway with wood walls. Cobwebs clung to corners and where the ceiling and walls met. Black goo oozed down the walls, and the further they walked, the stronger the smell of animal feces became.

When they actually got into the room that housed the hopeful pets, Morgan could see an automated air freshener dispenser on the corner of the far wall.

“At least they try to keep the smell down,” she said to Sally’s back.

The walls in the animal room were brown and oozed the black substance as well. Sordid newspapers were littered across the floor, and a blanket of warmth lingered in the room. A few scattered, half-burned out lights provided a sorry excuse for illumination, and the constant groaning of the assorted animals drifted about in the air like ghosts.

“What type of cat you looking for?” said Sally, rolling her neck and placing her hands on her hips. She brushed a strand of blond hair back onto the top of her head as she waited for Morgan to answer.

“Do you have any all-black cats?”

Sally puckered up her lips and moved them to the side of her face. “I think we have a couple of those. Follow me.”

Sally walked through the rowed stacks of cages and Morgan followed. As she walked, she noticed how small the holding cells were. They were tiny coops that would be the equivalent to a person living inside of an apartment-sized bathroom.

“Here we are. How about this one? We call her Buttercup,” said the girl, opening up the cage as she spoke. “We found her lying on the side of the road a couple of days ago.”

Morgan cringed when she saw the beast before her. Buttercup was all black, just like she requested, but she wasn’t sure if it was a cat or a giant wad of fat that had been painted.

Buttercup had a bulging, circular body that made her look like running would be as painful as holding her up by the tail. Her knees were bent inward, and her head was the same size and general shape of a soccer ball. Folds of blubber folded at the base of her ears. Her paws looked swollen shut, and it didn’t look like her claws could still squeeze out their sheaths. Even her tail was overweight and mashed against the ground like a sunbathing hippopotamus. There wasn’t much empty space in the tiny pen.

Buttercup made a noise that Morgan assumed was a hiss when Sally tried to take her out of her cage, but the noise sounded more like a fat man’s snore. A lazy string of spittle dripped out of Buttercup’s mouth and joined a foamy discharge around her collar as she snored again.

Sally thrust the cage closed when the odd noise reached her ears. The two girls were silent for a few seconds, and Morgan realized that the snoring was just how Buttercup sounded when she breathed.

“Can I see a different cat?”

“Sure…right this way.”

Sally started walking again and Morgan followed. Buttercup’s snore-breathing could still barely be heard, and Morgan wondered if there was such a thing as treadmills for cats. The two girls made it to the second eligible cage and stopped.

“Here we are. Maybe you’ll like this one. His name is Musket.” The girl opened the cage but Musket tried to run to the back. She finally nabbed the feline, and brought him out so Morgan could see. “What do you think? He’s been here for a while, and if he doesn’t find an owner soon, he’ll be put down.”

Morgan watched Musket as he squirmed against the girl’s grip. She had a sadistic desire to see the cat scratch Sally, but Musket simply squirmed and stared. He meowed and Morgan instantly knew he was not the cat for her.

“What happened to all of Musket’s teeth?”

“Oh, well we got him from a cat-abuser that apparently forced the poor kitty to chew rocks. There’s still a few in his stomach. That’s why he’s so skinny.”

Morgan’s heart sank and her eyes squinted. “As moving and sad as that is, I don’t think this is the right one for me.”

The girl shook her head and let Musket back into its cage. “We’ve got one more all-black cat. Hope it’s what you’re looking for.”

They continued on, stopping in the back of the room and Morgan crossed her fingers.

“Here we go. Hope you can appreciate this one. We call him Cleandro.”

“Cleandro?”

“Yup. It means man of happiness or something in Spanish, I think. We got him from a Mexican family that was deported about a week ago.”

Morgan looked at the cat and felt a warm feeling bubble up against her heart. “He’ll have to do.”

The cat meowed and Sally smiled. She went to find her boss and came back with the necessary paperwork. The boss was friendly, though he reeked of rotting meat, and Morgan was soon able to buy Cleandro for a small fee.

Sally’s boss placed the newly-purchased cat in a white and blue cardboard container. It was closed at the top and holes were poked in the upper areas for ventilation.

Morgan held it in one hand and her purse in the other as she exited the store. She said goodbye to Sally.

She put the container that the cat was in on the seat of her car and wished she could keep his name, but her mother named the family cat Frisky. Morgan tried convincing her mother that Frisky was a dog’s name, but she could not be swayed.

“Alright, Cleandro, you’re going to have to get used to being called Frisky, okay?”

Morgan glanced over at the box and only got a pleasant meow as a reply. “Even if this whole thing doesn’t work out and my mom figures out you’re not her cat, I think I’ll keep you.” Cleandro kept quiet. “Maybe I’ll even get a job so I can buy you some food. I don’t think there are military cats, so no one would believe me if I told them I needed cat food to support the troops.” Cleandro let out a string of meows and Morgan laughed. “You think that’s a good idea, huh?” She glanced over at the box again. “Well I just might have to do that then.”

There was something familiar about that cat that made her want to go against her promise. Something that reminded her about the time before her father passed.

She made it to her mother’s house and told Cleandro to wait in the car as she stepped out. An autumn breeze kicked a few dying leaves about in the air. The grass was splattered with browns, oranges, and reds as decaying leaves made their graves in patches across the yard.

She went to the front door and rang the doorbell. When her mother opened the door, the look on her face let Morgan know she was ecstatic to see her. They embraced for a few minutes, grasping each other and breathing deeply, almost crying, before going inside.

“I’m glad you finally decided to come see me?” said Morgan’s mom, the bulk of her hips causing her to waddle into the kitchen. “I was really getting tired of just talking to you on the phone.”

She watched as her mother went over to a pot and stirred the contents briefly before going to the fridge and reaching inside.

“I missed you so I thought I’d pay you a visit,” she said.

Morgan’s mother smiled and walked over to her with a bottle of Texas Pete hot sauce in one hand. She pinched Morgan’s cheeks with her free fingers before going back to the stove and shaking in the seasoning.

“That’s really sweet, baby.”

“Whatcha’ cookin’?”

“My famous chicken and dumplings. Can you stay and eat with me?”

“Of course. I didn’t drive all this way to leave on an empty stomach.” Her mother chuckled. “Where’s Frisky?”

Almost immediately, Morgan’s mother’s face drooped. Morgan lowered her eyebrows as she detected the anxiety in her mother. She almost regretted asking, but she remembered her little man of happiness waiting to make the situation better.

“I don’t really know. He’s somewhere around here. I took him to the vet the other day and they say he’s got heartworms,” she said as she paused to wipe her moistening eyes. “I really don’t understand it. I fed him his heartworm pills every day, so how did he get them?”

“I don’t know. I guess some things are just meant to be.”

“It just seems like all the bad meant-to-be things are meant to be for me. Why do you think that is?”

Morgan felt a guilty wave of darkness glaze over her heart. She knew there was no way to prove what she felt, but she couldn’t help feeling it anyway. She couldn’t help feeling like she played some sort of role in her mother’s despair. Maybe if she hadn’t done some of the things she had done. Maybe if she hadn’t made that promise.

“I don’t know, Mom,” she said, as she hung her head. Her dark brown hair fell in front of her face like a funeral veil. A spark of determination jolted down her spine and she brushed her hair back. “I’m going to look for Frisky. I haven’t seen him in a while.”

Her mother didn’t respond; she just remained bent over the pot of chicken and bread, letting her graying hair shield the wrinkles in her face like a mask. Morgan got up and started searching the house. She checked her own bedroom first. The pink walls reminded her of a time when her innocence was still with her.

She didn’t find Frisky under her sheets, in her closet, or anywhere else in her room, so she left and went back into the hallway. She made her way through the bathroom, the living room, and the family room with no luck. That left the basement and the master bedroom unchecked, but Frisky hated the basement so she decided to enter her mother’s room first.

The stale air in the room was like it would be if her mother had been sleeping on the couch or at the kitchen table instead of in her bed. There were no scents, and everything was just as she remembered it was from her last visit. The visit before her father died.

She made her way around and stopped at the bed. The dark-green comforter was rolled back on top of the mint-green sheets. The three green pillows rested against the headboard and tempted her to take a nap. She reached out and slid her fingers over the comforter. It was cold and still like the room.

Morgan turned her back on the bed and went over to the dresser. A forest of pictures covered the top of the dresser, and her eyes were instantly drawn to a picture of her and her father. The short brown hair of her dad rested against her chubby, five-year old cheeks. A shiver went up her spine and she could almost feel the coarseness of his face against hers.

A lump forced its way into the back of her throat and tears distorted the photograph. She continued staring, and the longer she stared, the more emotions she endured. The black coat of guilt squeezed around her heart like a hand. She felt lightheaded as her thoughts moved from guilty to angry.

If her father had never passed away, she would never have lost her job; if her father had never passed away she would never have had to trick all of those people out of their money; if her father had never passed away, she would still be living happily in the house, and she wouldn’t have had to take on the burden of his career.

She didn’t know why she promised to use the signs he had made. He was always a proud man, and the cancer was aggressive enough to take away any dreams he had of creating a legacy. Morgan knew that she was all he had besides her mom, but her mother would not agree with his choice of profession. If she had never agreed to carry on his legacy, she would never have had to move. Living at home after graduation from college isn’t everyone’s dream, but for Morgan it made her happy.

A shutter jerked her spine as she realized that she didn’t owe her father anything. She let go of the picture and it fell away from her face, away from her tears, away from the memories. The only room left to check was the basement, but after she checked the lower level, Frisky was still nowhere to be found. She decided to look outside before giving up, and she went back to the kitchen to tell her mom.

“I’m running out to my car real quick, I’ll be back in a few.”

“Okay, honey, dinner’s almost ready.”

Morgan exited the house and jogged over to one of the bushes that fenced the front. She didn’t see anything unusual, so she went to the tree by the side of the home.

The smell crashed into her nose. Buzzing flies and gnats tickled her ears, and she brought her hand to her mouth.

Sprawled in a patch of dirt and pebbles lay Frisky. His mouth was parted and his tongue hung out as if he wanted to taste the soil. His black fur was matted with brown streaks, and it looked like Frisky had rolled around on the ground before keeling over.

Morgan’s eyes narrowed and sagged at the edges. She swallowed a large glob of saliva that formed in her mouth, and started shoveling dirt atop the family cat with her foot.

A sigh pushed out from within her chest and she went over to her car. She opened the door, pulled apart the top of the blue and white box, and reached in. Cleandro meowed when she grabbed him and pulled him out.

“Alright Cleandro, you’re up. Don’t disappoint me,” she said after reaching into the back and taking out the Frisky lookalike.

Morgan made it back into the house. Her mother was placing a tossed salad by her place and setting the table when she walked into the kitchen. “Look who I found.”

“Frisky,” said Morgan’s mother with a smile. Cleandro stared at Morgan’s mother and meowed. “He sounds a little different today.”

“I think I saw him eating something outside,” Morgan said, setting Cleandro on the ground and trying to hide her shaking hands. “Go ahead Cl…Frisky, go back to whatever you were doing.”

Cleandro rubbed his side against Morgan’s leg and she smirked. She gently shoved him away with her foot, but the cat came back and continued to rub against her leg. She looked at her mother and shrugged her shoulders.

“He really does like you today.”

Morgan laughed nervously. “I guess he really wanted to come in.”

“Come to Mama, Frisky,” Morgan’s mother said, holding out her hands and raising both of her eyebrows. Cleandro blinked but didn’t leave Morgan’s side. She shrugged her shoulders again as her mother shook her head. “Cats really can be moody sometimes.”

“Yeah, when I found him he almost ran away from me. Now he wants to replace my socks. Funny, huh?”

Morgan’s mother smirked and went back over to the table. She finished setting it and served her daughter. They ate and their laughter filled the air with happiness.

After the meal, Morgan’s mother said she was glad her daughter stopped by. She couldn’t stop talking about Frisky’s seemingly newfound energy as she watched the cat prance around in his home like he had never seen a house before.

Morgan kissed her mother goodbye and went back to her car. She hopped in, started the white sedan and drove back to her apartment.

The full moon shimmered as she went inside. As she passed the threshold of her home a heavy sensation tugged on her heart.

Walking past her couch, she noticed her Support our Troops sign propped up against the pillows. She clenched her jaw and knitted her brow together. She tightened her fists until her forearms hurt, and her breathing was in drawn out intervals.

Morgan went to the kitchen and her unhappiness continued growing. Yanking open a drawer, she searched the contents until she found what she wanted: a kitchen lighter. She shoved the drawer shut and turned the safety off before going back to the couch. She grabbed the sign and almost ran outside.

The parking lot was too big for the complex, and she didn’t have a problem finding a space that wasn’t close enough to anyone’s automobile to cause any damage. She tossed the sign on the ground. She hadn’t noticed, but her shoulders were heaving up and down and tears warmed rivers down her face. A small flame danced at the tip of the lighter when she pressed the button. She bent over and brought fire to sign and it started to crackle as the flame ate away its integrity.

She dropped the sign and watched the fire as it danced on the concrete. Taking a step back, she plopped down on her butt.

The sheet of cardboard wrinkled and crumpled into itself. Plumes of blackness fumed up from the parking lot and disappeared into the night sky. She sat there on her backside and stared at the flame until nothing remained but a smoldering pile of embers and blackened past.

When the cold from the night grew too great for her to handle, she stood up and wrapped her arms around herself. A breeze invaded her embrace and she shivered.

A section from the daily newspaper bounced over, carried by the wind, and smacked into the side of her ankle. She bent down and picked up the paper as she turned away from the pile of ashes in the parking lot. She felt warm and thought of Cleandro’s face as her eyes rested on the classified section of the newspaper.

Only for my eyes to betray what I know I should see

I try to guess and hope for God’s best,

but sometimes His truth escapes me.

Every day I look upon the sea of people in my life

Paddl’n' and swayin’ in this old wooden dinghy

Waiting for God to shake me from my trance

So that I may leap and stand on His raging sea.

Every day I look upon the sea of people in my life

And doubt that God could love people like us

I am constantly reminded that if I were my Lord

This doubting world would drive me nuts.