Living!

Context is important, but that’s enough of that. For now. I want talk about how I’m learning to be alive; so I will. Now.

I was recently sitting along a shoreline in a country not my own. There were tidepools. I was feeding the fish and the crabs wandering about. I had bread and cat food with me. I thought the said creatures would prefer the bread, but they preferred the cat food. The glow of the sunset lingers in that place. Just to the West of the tidepools, the waves were crashing fiercely upon the rocky shore.

Some dude came up, or, more accurately, down, to me. He told me his friend wanted to meet me. I shrugged it off. The dude was insistent, however. He pointed out his friend, who was sitting on the other side of the sea wall.

His friend was, well, drop-dead gorgeous, but younger than me; and I’m a kitten, not a cougar. I told the wingman that I had no interested in anyone under 40–they just don’t have enough interesting stories to tell; but the wingman was a good wingman and swore that his friend was over 40 and wanted me to join him.

I admit to a certain M.O., but even the lingering sunset colors were fading, and I was running low on cat food, anyway; so I joined the friend on the bench on the other side of the sea wall.

The follow-up post will be a solid PG-13. But might need to wait until I decide about further changing names to protect the innocent.