Archive for October, 2018

The Stray

October 26, 2018

The Stray

His fur shone; he shivered. The rain had caught him by surprise. Mr. Black came at night to ask for food. He bumped his head against the window. The woman grabbed a can of wet food from her stash. Someone’s hand stopped her. You are not going out. He’s a stray. She looked at the person. The person just doesn’t get it, she thought. Your hands are strong. Nevertheless, I have to feed him. He is not doing you or me or anybody any harm. She ran out to the door, opened the outer gate and put the contents of the can in a small plate. The cat went for it as if he hadn’t eaten in days.



The Man

October 12, 2018

You are the man. You are the man I wanted, the man I couldn’t have. I stretched out my arm and hand to you. I could never catch you; you were slippery. You teased me; I teased you back. I loved you and said so. You played hard to get. Others  were interested. You aroused other women, sophisticated women. They were women of the world. l was the country bumpkin from a foreign land. I could hardly speak your language. Your customs and habits weren’t mine anymore. Our eyes knew everything. Our eyes said things that we could not say in public.

The Rain

October 11, 2018


The rain wasn’t fun anymore. It wasn’t a pastime, something out of the classic movie Singing in the Rain, with Gene Kelly dancing and putting his feet happily in puddles and puddles of rain. The rain annoyed her. It made her frustrated with her life, with what she had become. All she longed for was a warm place and a hot cup of tea. All she wanted was the comfort of what she most enjoyed and wanted to have.














October 11, 2018


The rain—she hated the rain. It came down, down hard and it wouldn’t stop. The morning began out on the sidewalk, with the people walking past her. Some carried umbrellas and some wore raincoats. She had her cup next to her so that they wouldn’t think that she was there just to read the free daily paper. Being out was important to her; for now it was her job, her only job. But the water spoiled everything—she got wet and her arms shivered. Her whole body shook.  When she crossed the street to get to the phone booth, the only refuge she knew, the extra water on the asphalt went up to her ankles. Her shoes would take forever to dry later in the evening. She had to do this. She had to see it through. Life was the way it was; nothing much for now to do about it.