Fundelstein

Moans and squeals filled the tiny apartment as the television blared the latest romance movie. In the kitchen, Elsa shook her head as she gulped down the last of her water. She crossed over to the living room where her younger sister, Anna, sat cross-legged in front of the television, cradling her head in her hands. “Oh Anna, could you just stop that? It’s all the same scenes, over and over again,” she scoffed, gesturing to the wide-eyed damsel on the screen. Anna pouted as she turned to face her sister. “It’s different! The context is different, the characters are different.” Chuckling, Elsa lifted her winter jacket off the coat rack and slipped into it. “Right. Like I haven’t seen that scene right there where the girl slips, the guy catches her somehow, and they stare for three seconds, and then kiss.” Anna’s eyes turned dreamy. “And what’s wrong with that?” “One, there’s nothing for her to slip on.” Elsa counted off her fingers. “Two, the guy must have miracle hands to catch

One autumn morning, I decided to write for a while on the front porch of my home. Conditions were finally much cooler in our desert community. A light mist enshrouded the distant mountain ranges and cascaded into the meadows. Creatures such as rabbits, ground squirrels, and quail couples with their chicks picked at the ground for their breakfasts or chased each other around in play. Canadian geese who had migrated to the area for a few months honked from somewhere overhead. It was the perfect environment to seek a little inspiration, much needed after two weeks defined by restless activity—with remote transcription assignments that never seemed to end, errands at the closest town a lengthy drive away, and other obligations that made finding private time difficult. Waking up early to create a small workstation outside and hope for the best was a desperate move to get a short respite from all the craziness. Everything was peaceful while setting up a TV tray on the creaky floorboards

Sweet kitty cat I can hardly believe you just reached out with one little black paw and booped me on the nose I have awoken so many times to the gentle rumbles of your internal engine as you rested atop the comforter only inches away from my face I have awoken some mornings to the soft spring of your strong legs up onto the bed and felt their pressure when you balanced atop my arm until I got up I have even awoken on occasion to the commotion of a belled plush bird attached by a string onto the tip of a stick as you dragged it down the hall through the ajar door right to my bedside