A requiem to remember

It's time for the little pink pill to kick in while I imagined my regular baker and barista who share the same tiny cafe talking about this unusual woman who used to be tempted by their adorable bread loaf designs.

“Indeed weird, who on earth even buys garlic feta in chili oil . Haven't seen her in a while, have you? ” But the barista would just shrug because he didn't know her well.

The reason being, that she liked to poison her coffee herself. Nobody really gets the caramel and vanilla ratio right, she’d whine.

Maybe the old woman who feeds a dozen cats with her would notice that suddenly her homemade cat food just wasn't enough for those 13 cats. “I wonder why she stopped feeding them, did she move again?”

A good conjecture, since the girl moved to 5 different cities this year alone.

This might be an educated guess because the old woman once said “at 65 I’m too worn to be curious.” so she’ll sink into this assumption.

But what about the man from the library, who tells me “The world is obsessed with romance, especially your generation. Its fresh to see someone interested in historical fiction”

“Well I'm very much just like my generation. I enjoy romance too but in a historical fiction setting” and we would talk about books for an hour and a half till his daughter would arrive with her son to pick him up. They’re sweet.

The grandson asked me once if I do not have friends my age because his grandfather was over 30 years older than me. He’s 5 so I told him that I was just a couple of years younger than his grandfather and it's the blood I drink that keeps me young.

I wonder if they’ll wonder why the historical fiction aisle is so free of soft natters now.

And lastly my Darling therapist who will probably live her life more fully now that she’ll have a lot of time in her hands. Maybe she’ll take up karate, or join a book club or go clubbing and get drunk on whiskey sours that she so wanted to try. Maybe even get a cat?

They say cats have relatively short separation anxiety. The relativity is always to dogs. Never us. I want to know where they stand when it comes to comparison with humans. Because sometimes we forget faster than greased lightning. And sometimes things rot in your neo-cortex for an eternity.

In most cases what we do is miss people and not dwell. Like dogs do. I mean if I had a dog, things would be 10x more complicated. Imagine him not eating for a week because his human friend was nutty as a fruitcake.

Now he would wonder for days, where the damn hooman go? He’d probably also be shocked unlike most people in my life who saw the signs as clear as vodka.

But I'd prefer they’d lie. To distant friends, to the acquaintances who’d show up with a forehead tattoo that said “wasted potential” and if that wasn't enough, they’d be handing over “oh what a tragedy” placards to everyone.

Lie to the baker, the barista, the old cat lady, the old man at the library and lie to the dog. Tell that cat the truth. She knows worse.

But the rest, just lie.

Tell some of them that she got hit by an ice-cream truck while getting chased by stone cold murderers.

Or that she stuck her head in an oven, for she has read all the works of Sylvia plath twice and asked herself “Now what”

Or or, that a giant piano fell over her slightly less giant head while on her way to the farmer’s market to get some peaches which she anyways wasn't gonna eat. Poor peaches.

Or for poetic justice how about that she ate some bad sushi that caused a fatal reaction in her body? The thing she loved the most and bleh bleh?? Not creative enough.

Or if you want to get creative, which I encourage you to tell them how she went to a ‘save bees’ campaign and a swarm of bees attacked her to a point where her face was unrecognizable (some even claim this face was way better than the one she came to the campaign with)

Imagine my friend telling people at my After-party “She had no regrets, well except the fact she’ll miss Taylor Swift’s next album. Except that, none. Maybe a few more involving some of her demented kinks but thats not the point, the point is she loved gin. In Fact she chose all the alcohol herself just like the decoration, very chicc and minimalist so not like her but she was adamant about the theme.”

Another one going “oh she hated chocolates, but the chocolate fountain specifically for her good for nothing crush who didn't even come. Told her cheese would’ve been better”

Before the tiny blue pill kicks in I need to pop this long thought bubble because i’m on my way to send the guests a cat and a book each as parting presents.