The day after tomorrow Laura would come and stay for a few days. Would it really improve the likelihood of finding Zoe?
Her silly face would not leave his head. It would be nice to have some company.
He had been mapping out the neighborhood from a felines point of view to the best of his ability. The fish market was certainly worth a second, even a third look or even make it a standing routine check perhaps. Kelly's was always well worth a careful once over, of course, after they had been there together so many times.
But where was she going – where had she always wanted to be? If she was willing to leave in the first place, what would she be reaching for that she didn't already have? She was a minimalist. It was at her encouragement that he had been able to make a good start at non-attachment in the first place; letting things be what they were, experiencing life as a process, something flowing. That was her vibe.
My goodness, he thought to himself, how bad must I have made it for her before she finally was forced to leave.
The guilt. She needed food, my presence, some companionship.
That night he decided to get out for an intentional run. All the lights were up around the city by now and it would be an electrically dazzling mile or so but his favorite was to get out beyond the farthest west hill and head down to where it was still yet dark enough to take in a full moon or an occasional search for Saturn.
Tonight as he ran his thoughts continued.
If it weren't for the bad weather she'd probably be happy outside for a good long season.
I wonder if she would ever have the stones to hop on a truck or bus or something…? Did she realize she wasn't far from open country, 40 miles or so from the northern fringes of the Blue Ridge?
He fell into a rhythm that began to feel dreamy, more visionary. He thought he would check his pulse for sure when he returned home.
What a Fisher… she must be. I could just imagine her… nestling herself into a small cave near one of the canyons and making her way down each dawn to the meandering silver string of river, on down to the spattering brooks where Trout riggle through the stony turns gaining speed and stirring the waters first sourced and strung through the mountains rounded hips rising up to firm their respective glacial tips. Her hips splayed, pouring her over a limb like a supremely more adorable snake, her blue eyes peering deeply into the rush of the taught white waters beneath. A pure creature, hunter of life.
She didn't need much to get by. She made the world wear her like a lucky fur, an outdoorsy Zen master at home in the mountains of Burma.
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