Kris never wanted to get out of bed. He thought that he might drown in all of that down, and that would be just fine. Maggie’s alarm clock woke him in the politest of manners by playing some terrific indie acoustic chick-rock: the perfect soundtrack to the morning sunlight that drenched the room. Delicious. Kris stretched out, flexing every muscle in his body, like a cat rising from a nap. And in fact, noticing that the human was awake, the Calico in the window sill stood and stretched as well. The room smelled like cedar and apple and leather and . . . new electronics. Maggie’s place was beautiful and Kris really dug her style. It was contemporary, without being too over the top or self-aware, and it all looked very new. It was painted throughout with soothing colors – just right for a guy in therapy, Kris thought, just what he needed. These were colors Golidilocks would have chosen, not too warm, not too light, but juuuust right. Best of all, Kris hadn’t had any weird dreams since coming here! “So this is what it feels like to be truly rested.” He had forgotten.
Kris arose and drifted into the kitchen area, which was stocked with all top-of-the-line appliances, bamboo floors, and cabinets that looked to Kris like an easy years’ salary. Kris made some coffee with a French press and figured, “Well, I am sure it will be good, but it won’t be Frou-Frou’s good.” After it had steeped, Kris sampled the brew and found, to his surprise and great delight, that his assumption had been wrong. “Well, I stand corrected,” he said to Abraham Lincoln (the cat). He made some eggs, which he shared with Abe, and cautioned, “Shh, don’t tell your momma.”
Abraham Lincoln was a typical cat, with the exception that had but three legs, one more than the actual Abraham Lincoln, one less than an actual typical cat. Abe was a rescue, a male. He was overweight and had a swinging paunch from having had his testicles removed. None of these traits seemed to occur to Abraham at all, however, as he went about cleaning egg from his muzzle. “Cleanliness,” he seemed to say to Kris, “this is what is important, friend, cleanliness.”
Kris took the hint and eventually made his way to the shower himself, in no hurry at all. This was his chance to recuperate and he was going to take full advantage of the opportunity. He had washed the funky smell of his Momma’s house from his clothes and was contemplating a haircut when his phone buzzed: “I need you to come to Sacred Heart.” It was Maggie. He typed back, “no meetings 4 me 2day. taking personal inventory J”
Should he drink another cup of coffee? Oh why not? Another text came through: “Come now. Body found.”
That can’t be right, Kris thought. He replied, “@ sacred heart?!?!”
Maggie responded curtly, “Now. Come now.”
So much for tranquility.
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