—I’M NOT CRAZY, I’M JUST A LITTLE IMPAIRED                                         

 

Untethered

 

         Her finger hovered on the television dial, her nails scored and dark gray, the color of pencil lead.  A wash of neon splashed her hip where the images of a Skittles commercial played.   Captain Stubing, her cat, hovered nearby, staring at the candy bubbles showering her knees, some pucks the color of lemon, some like celery or the strained brown of weak tea.

         The cat was his.  He left it for her.  She wondered if the cat ever thought of him, if the cat had a recollection of his voice.  He’d bought her a present once for their anniversary.  It was an old-fashioned stone, an opal or something cold-looking made into a broach imbedded with fine gold trim work.  The day he lef,t she threw the jewel out the window but here it was now, staring up at her like an ogre eye from Captain Stubing’s dish.

         She studied the cat and the cat her.  For the first time in months, she felt the grip of loneliness slip away, like a clasped hand letting go, like a plait unwinding in the wind.