Telling the Two Apart
009
When Nina finally unlocked her door and stepped into her apartment, unwrapping her longest scarf from around her neck, she shivered at the cold. She’d forgotten to turn the heat on—again. This meant that for the next thirty minutes, she’d have to walk around the house in a blanket, waiting for the old but dependable heater to warm up the apartment.
Orion the cat greeted her with a bump against her legs.
“Long time no see,” Nina said to him, bending and scooping him up. The cat immediately began to purr and she scratched his chin. “I wish I could trust you enough to take you on walks.”
She almost laughed at the thought. Rarely did people walk cats, and she hadn’t expected, after the last three months, that she’d even consider it.
The small red light on her answering machine caught her eye, blinking stoically. Message. Orion squirmed and she let him leap from her arms, ever-confident in the usual way of felines, and he bounced off to the kitchen, hopping on the counter, where he was not allowed.
The message was from her mother. “Oh, you’re not home.”
Quite a development, wasn’t it?
The message was the usual chatter about bills, weather, and family well-being that seemed to be all anyone wanted to discuss these days. Nina was sure to find herself craving meaningful conversation; she was sure to want more than what a few purrs and meows could offer. God, and how she hoped she wouldn’t be reduced to digging up her old address book and calling old friends. Gerard might prove to be the base of a new social life.
Unless that was perhaps taking it too far too soon.
Orion the cat greeted her with a bump against her legs.
“Long time no see,” Nina said to him, bending and scooping him up. The cat immediately began to purr and she scratched his chin. “I wish I could trust you enough to take you on walks.”
She almost laughed at the thought. Rarely did people walk cats, and she hadn’t expected, after the last three months, that she’d even consider it.
The small red light on her answering machine caught her eye, blinking stoically. Message. Orion squirmed and she let him leap from her arms, ever-confident in the usual way of felines, and he bounced off to the kitchen, hopping on the counter, where he was not allowed.
The message was from her mother. “Oh, you’re not home.”
Quite a development, wasn’t it?
The message was the usual chatter about bills, weather, and family well-being that seemed to be all anyone wanted to discuss these days. Nina was sure to find herself craving meaningful conversation; she was sure to want more than what a few purrs and meows could offer. God, and how she hoped she wouldn’t be reduced to digging up her old address book and calling old friends. Gerard might prove to be the base of a new social life.
Unless that was perhaps taking it too far too soon.