What Are You Doing Here?

· bodega

The look she gave me was like I had just embarrassed her at her office. The cat slunk by, prowling in the shadows along the deck, not playful at all. No response but condscension to my cloth-monkey attempts at cat talking. What was I doing out there? Lying, crushing dried pedals in a sun-soaked reverie, outdoors with my shirt off for the first time in I don’t know how long. What a pleasure as the fibers of my muscles and skin gave up their tension, the air cool in the shady dapples and tangy hot where the sun looks through the vine and tree limbs. Sitting up, looking over my shoulder, I felt the air as cool. The cat shoulders down, purposeful.

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