101 Words

Michaela was reading a book when a bird flew by. It flapped its wings and chirped as it landed in the book she held. Michaela strained herself from moving as she didn’t want the bird to flee. Michaela gave a smile and made the bird lower its guards to perform a little chirp.

It was a rare sight, so as sly as she could, Michaela tried to take a photo. Its sharp eyes took notice, however, and it flew off, frightened. Michaela was saddened as it left. Now the bird could only be accessed through her memory, easy to be forgotten.

My dog died today.

Early evening yesterday, we sat together on the front porch. He stirred only slightly when Mrs. McGinnis strolled by with her dog Marshmallow. When darkness fell, I carried him inside and placed him on my bed for the first time. I fell asleep on the couch.

This morning he was gone. I summoned my courage, wrapped him in a blanket, and laid him in my car. The vet was waiting outside when I arrived and hugged me as I handed over my fourteen-year companion.

Devastated, I drove home. Reminders were everywhere. I have never been this lost.

When his memory started to go, Nelson became even more methodical in the shower, washing each part in a precise order. Thursday, he became stuck with the warm water cascading his back, the soft bar of soap curled in his right hand, fingers cradled by the crook of his elbow, as he tried to figure out whether he had already scrubbed his left arm.

By the time his wife checked on him, the water had long lost its heat and his tired legs had given way. She found him with the soap gripped in his fist like a soft cartoon neck.

Limestone cliffs pocked by wind, rain, and the swells of high tides bookend the beach. Moonah trees bonsaied by salt-laden winds cling to the dunes, protecting a carpet of white coastal daisy. She is drawn to the beauty of this rugged coast, and a walk along the beach clears her mind. She follows the track that hugs the foreshore, past the black Crying Rocks, named for the number of shipwrecks in the bay, before descending to the beach. Here she is her own force of nature. Here, her cries are heard. Here, dogs are off the leash and so is she.

She was falling scarcely before she knew it, before her feet felt the stumble and before her eyes saw the danger. She fell until she was under the surface, under the water which soaked her clothes and which caressed her body. She tried to sputter but couldn’t, her arms moving slowly around her in the soft, creeping water. For a moment she was still, and she imagined herself melting into the water, absorbed by the creek. When at last her feet touched the bottom she pounced, rushing towards the surface, slicing through the calm current, until she was no longer under.

The 4:15 bus always arrived late, so naturally Charlie missed it at 4:10.

The weatherman said rain wouldn’t come until nightfall, so naturally it began pouring at 4:20.

Charlie didn’t drink coffee, so naturally the closest shelter was a cat café. The lounge looked inviting, however, so he ordered a hot chocolate and sank into a recliner.

His sister’s cats avoided Charlie as if he had fleas, so naturally an orange fluffball graced him with its presence in moments, settling across his aching knees like a breathing, purring heating pad.

The cat’s name was Darwin, so naturally Charlie took him home.