Memories of loss, translated…
In the depth of one wet, November night, he and I split up, to look for the cat, I had a flashlight, as I wandered the streets. The flashlight sucked, only had the dimmed lights, and, all the reflection points were the eyes of the cats. It’s all a test.
The tarp-paved roads were twinkling, because of the rain, my eyes were also, collecting the rain, the roads were blurred. Why would the cat get lost? Why didn’t he tell me right away? I’d swallowed my angers hard, twisted the lid on tight, wanted to get all the negative emotions to suffocate, without the oxygen.
From that day on, whenever my cat surfaced back into my mind, I’d started time-traveling. So many nights, I’d returned to that particular night, became a cat, flipped through the gates, and, jumped from the ridges of the roof, and followed the cat that was lost, entered through the passages that only those cats would know about; there were, several times when I’d sent myself back, to the moment I’d gotten the cat back, to prevent myself from flying abroad; naturally, I’d gone back to the moment when I’d learned about my cat being lost, and, SLAP the person who lost my cat really hard, across the face.
But, I will NEVER go back to the moment when my cat got lost—what I’d done wrong by my cat, I will, carry that, forever.
So, it’s still haunting you, after so many years, it’s just something you can’t get over, because, perhaps, you’d entrusted something you loved so dearly to someone you once trusted, and, he’d ended up, being careless, and lost it, that, was probably what made this person mad, more than the fact, that her cat got lost.