Katey

I wake up drowsy in my parents' sofa. To beat the heat, I'd come down late last night and looked for refuge in lower, cooler altitudes. I miss Katey. A fleeting thought, but sufficient to switch on a dull ache in my heart. On a blog, I'd seen someone refer to the sensation as bereavement. I sample the word with my tongue and lock it away for later. Walking to the kitchen, I glance over the object of my loss. Two days was all it took to live through decades, an intensity that resulted in a subtle sense of schizophrenia. The book, Rules of Civility[0], is one of the rare ones that make you temporarily forget about yourself, and the fine lines of your personality. Instead I inhabited Katey Kontent, and I'm struggling to let her go.

[0] https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/10054335-rules-of-civility