By Peter J.
Eighteen. New apartment. New job. Two cats, one her mother’s and one her own. Different job. Got a raise. Moved to the good part of town. Sneaked in her cats. Kicked out, tried again. Home everyday at four. Five boyfriends, only one whom she believed in. Boots died. Sadness clogged the air. She took Whiskers camping. Whiskers loved the pines. Found a new job, moved up north. Bought a house. She walked with Whiskers in the woods. She thought of Boots. Two more years, and then Whiskers died. A box on her doorstep. A little orange cat.
Starting over once again.
Cats punctuating the different eras of your life. I know that phenomenon well. Good way to tell a story, too.
Thank you very much! ?
The question mark was supposed to be an emoticon but it didn’t work, my apologies.
A tender and lovely story; great condensing of detail to portray a life and change within it.
Thank you!!! 😀
Love the punctuation of this story. It’s like a list: homes, jobs, boyfriends, and cats pervade. And in spite of the list, you get little glimpses of the girl – who she’s thinking about, who she believes in (I guess that should be “whom”), the charming way that the cats appear (on doorsteps) and reappear (in thoughts), and get sneaked in to apartments… It’s a lovely lovely list.