Tomorrow, I need to take my fakey Boniva.  It’s not the named branded stuff, but I guess it serves the same purpose.    Okay, it’s not tomorrow.   Rather May 1st.

Tomorrow I see Endgame with little bro and sister after going to the gym with little bro.

Experiment —-

Actually going to try to free write something.  I haven’t done this in a super long time, but it’s how I used to help generate scenes for my stories.    The usually don’t mean anything, but wordplay and emotions, sometimes.

So…  I’m going to give it a shot.
Let me know if it has any redeeming qualities.

——   Slippery tears slide down the curves of her cheeks, gently being guided by bumps on her skin.  Once to the edge, the tears’ progress took them to just under her chin where they fell on her chest which was covered by a deep v blue blouse.

She pressed her left thumbnail deep into the palm of her right hand.   Blood was drawn.  The pain was a welcome distraction from the sight she refused to see but would haunt her dreams at night and linger just behind her eyelids when she blinks.

Her cat, named Tits to Teeth on a dare, had died.

Tits to Teeth was the best cat she ever owned or, truthfully, to own her.  When she came home, he would gracefully grant her his presence, much like a king greeting a commoner.  He demanded attention to detail, especially concerning the exact amount and smell of his wet food as it was presented in a Snoopy food dish.    If he deemed it too much, he would ignore it.   Not enough would cause wails and hardship until the unknown exact amount was placed precisely and not one drop more.

From his perch on the Art Saves Lives throw, Tits to Teeth, he regally dominated the apartment, driving away suitors and friends alike with a swift paw to the nose or ear.   The human that he owned was barely tolerable.  All else, human and animal alike, were not worthy of his narrow amber stare.  Truly, the only reason why he withstood his current human because of her evident total devotion to him.   Still, his human felt that she always lacking.   Something was missing.

Since she could not satisfy a cat, she certainly couldn’t satisfy herself in life.  It was a thought that had become a dull thud in her heart and mind.  Her failure to Tits to Teeth was something that she could never forget and never be forgiven.

And now he was cold.

Tits to Teeth lay in his traditional and dominating spot – dead center of the bed.  Equal distance from the corners and sides, his tail was tucked close to his body.   His head laid on his two front paws, slightly tilted as if in thought or dreaming of a brighter day.  Ears stood firm and alert as if he continued to survey his domain in his quiet and distant slumber.

The woman felt the blood drip between her fingers, tingling down the back of her hand, before losing heat and falling to the cold dark wooden floor.  A cloud of failure, darker than Tits to Teeth’s fur, fell over her heart and already struggling mind.

She turned, walked to the window, and looked down.

Down, past the fire escape.
Down, past the windows of floors beneath her.
Down, to the hard and hot gray concrete below.

Mind crushed, the suffocating city night air welcomed her.

And she flew.