was it 6:30 when you left this morning? i held the cat to let you out and got the quick kiss that comforts me til the next time i see you. i looked out the window there was snow. i hoped you were warm enough and wished i could call out to you and offer an umbrella. i looked at the snow through the foggy window til i sat back on the bed to pet the cat. i turned on music to lull me to sleep took the pillow we both prefer and fell to fatigue, fever and heartache. added together i got a good night’s sleep. when i woke up the windows were still foggy. it was raining. i ate my leftover half a sandwich. fed bits of salmon to the cat. he still stands on his hind legs like a trick pony to eat fish from my hand. i miss him. not as much as you. i packed my backpack. out the door i took the red umbrella. it’s broken in two places. the rain was light. i had to jump five or six feet at a run to clear the first streetcorner where slush stretched like a lake with the red umbrella unfurled above me i couldn’t decide if i felt like mary poppins or dick van dyke. in the park the path was a river of rain and slush that lapped over the toes of my shoes.