...or like the police saying, "What he did to you was immoral, but not illegal."
I was at the height of my professional game. I was self-employed, living frugally but doing well. I was busy, busy, busy. There was only time for work and very little play; so little time that though I love cats, it took one of the strays in my complex 8 months to seduce me. He committed daily to demanding my attention with his feline tricks, choosing my unit as his feeding ground and flaunting his glistening trio of blond coats. His meow was like the whimper of a mermaid.
The mermaid whimper like the sound of my father's voice came to me in a dream. I was living under power lines at the time. The current must have thrust me into another dimension. A perfectly chiseled man found me on a political dance floor, drunk with obsession for just long enough to pad me from the bruises of a life-changing fall. There was no time to think. It was time to lay down to rest before the long journey that came from a long Labor Day ending in a long silence after the policeman said, "What he did to you was immoral, but not illegal."
J.S.
