This song. She had searched for it for years, ever since hearing it somewhere, someplace. Not being able to place it in space and time had not diminished it in any way. It had popped up often enough in her head while she was doing other things, a reminder of something she could not – but felt she should – remember. An unknown companion for the longest time.
And here it was, emerging from a random café, being sung by someone on a small stage better at singing than guitaring. She went in, intending to find out what there was to find out. But first, simply to listen.
It was four in the morning, and he was awake. Sleep had yet to happen. He stared at the words of the book he was supposed to know for an imminent but not immediate exam, and they all seemed to blend together in an undifferentiated mass of verbiage. Words, words, words.
And then, small feet tapped across the floor, and across the bed. Suddenly, a small cat was atop him, gradually getting closer and closer to his face, until at last they booped.
Apparently satisfied by this exchange, the small thing rolled into a ball upon him and started to purr. Suddenly, things did not seem all that bad.
She was tired. It had been a long day – possibly the longest day on record – and her energy levels were at an all time low. Yet, as she knew from experience, the only way forward was through, and the list of things that needed doing would not autocomplete itself. With resolute resigned determination she opened the door to her apartment, and
The floor was vacuumed. The dishes done. The laundry folded. The heavy object moved. The letters posted. From the kitchen, the scent of cooking emanated. As she walked through the door to see what was up, a very happy teenager exclaimed