For the Love of Lucy

i really like that saying. figures. heres a story to go wif it


Lucy? Luck? Where are you? LUCY? God, that stupid cat. Where did she go? I guess it's sort of mean to put her in a crate, but she doesn't need to run off! Did she need to go pee? Was she hungry? I'm the one who feeds her.  Did she smell something? Impossible. Where was she? I looked. And looked. And finally, I sat down and cried. It had always been me and Lucy. Lucy and I. All alone. And finally, when we had a chance in the big wide world, when people would say, " Hello, nice to meet you" instead of the pitying, repulsed, " It's that Miranda girl. She lives all alone". And I would say, "Nice to meet you, too. I'm Miranda ", instead of thinking, ' I'm not alone. I have Lucy." I actually am stuck alone. And as I sit , knowing I will have to go back, the tears running down my face, in the cold, I hear a voice. It, too is a sad voice. I can tell before I look up. I also hear a soft purr. I wonder, and I almost do not hear the voice saying, "Is this your cat?", because when I look up, I see Lucy, and I know things will be fine. And they are. The voice is sad. It belongs to a young woman. She is in business clothes. She has a cup of coffee. And I know her. She has the face of the angel in the stained glass in the church that I walked past everyday back in the town.