Untitled {Short Story, Work In Progress}

I

Sure, she was free. That is what her finite mind told her. In the simplest measurements, her boxed-in life of childish schemes was no longer what her feelings followed. "Feelings strictly should not be what you rely on," she told herself. The derivation of the teenage antics behind her came from nothing but emotion. She felt as if from nothing but emotion. She felt as if this most certainly should not be the case. Feigning a sense of gratitutde within herself, she rose from her pose beneath the sheets of her bed and slowly meandered towards the chamber door. Albert made a dash at heel,
"Albert, darling, this is not the time to be smitten in favor of my Achilles tendon."

"Your Achilles tendon is of no further interest to me, contrary to popular belief, cats hear affection only to other cats, not to humans."

"Oh, goulash, you smelly feline."

Albert had a terrible case of the Wednesdays. It was unusual for him to be in a vile mood today, yet he continued to mope around the apartment as if someone had accidentally crammed cat nip up his small, tail-covered derrière. She would no longer put up with his morning capers. She stole to the kitchenette and pured Albert a fresh bowl of food. As suddenly as the last piece of sustinence hit the glass bowl, Albert and his satire began to make a turn around. It was almost gay the way he perched on the arm rest following breakfast. She sat on the vintage sofa as she awaited the ring of the coffee maker signaling the start of her morning.

"Albert, baby, you really should consider it a part of your routine beginning at the crack of dawn to decide to be nice for once when I lift my head from the pillow."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because whether you choose to acknowledge it or not, I feed you and clean your shit from the box every day."

Albert jeered; the coffee pot rang. Sniveling she straightened her legs and skipped to the counter to receive a cup of black coffee. She then reached for the Godiva and shoved a sixteenth of a bar into the mug. Turning up the volume on the stereo and placing her Queen compact disc in the slot, she mosied to her closet door.

II

"Honey, I just don't think it's right for Linley to become numb to everything but his downs kids."

"What do you mean? He only had to have a parent teacher conference this morning, so he couldn't walk with you to Kitson. Don't get yourself worked up over nothing. Just be glad you're not Britney, or better yet K-Fed. It'll pass, that won't."

"Kassandra, dear, watch the curb."

Kassandra stumbled off the curb in her purple Mary Janes as she flagged a taxi. Odetta climbed into the taxi after Kassandra and decided it was best just to listen to her friends mindless celebrity gossip.

"O.M.G. Jess, the hoe, was in the store yesterday, and I talked her our of buying these horrendous bangles. Shit, they were awful. I can't believe she even considered them. She's truly a dumb blonde. I totally can't believe it..."

Odetta only halfway listened to Kassandra's babbling. It had become a regular routine for her to question the few reasons why she was friends with Kassandra in the first place. They were completely opposite people. It often times became apparent that Kassandra was more like her child than truly her friend, despite the fact that they were exactly the same age give or take only a few days.

Besides the fact that there used to not be a Kitson store located in New York City, Kassandra had started one. It had been a huge endeavor and had involved too much time and less needed pain. Odetta had always thought that if Kassandra had not been consumed by "her" Kitson, she might be slightly more sane. Nonetheless, Kassandra had taken on responsibility of the store and it's many prospects. Their friendship had then become a mother-daughter relationship involving many sleepless nights of weeping and chocolate ice cream. Kassandra, of course, was the child and usually ate most of the ice cream by herself while being held and wiped of her many hot tears of anxiety. When the store was finally started and the business confusion settled, Kassandra and her "mother," Odetta, began to drift from eachother, not so much in distance, but in heart. Kassandra never seemed to realize this fact, which could be said of many relationships one might involve themself in.

They neared their block and the taxi swiftly halted. Kassandra threw a wad of cash at his face and nearly jumped out the door and onto the curb. Odetta followed her and they began to trek towards Kitson. Kassandra had been chatting away, mostly to herself, the entire way, never minding if a question was not answered or a comment not made, for she talked much too often anyway. Odetta knew she would ne'er get a word in, so her mind began to drift once again. They stepped in the front entrance of the shop and Kassandra was immediately bombarded with people and their questions. No matter how much she would deny it, Kassandra loved the attention. She thrived on it and had her whole life. Odetta knew this, and couldn't possibly oblige to these needs. She had decided long ago in her relationship with Kassandra that she would not give her the attention that she wanted ever so terribly. Kassandra didn't mind mostly; she blew it off as being "just the way she is," when she knew somewhere in her heart that it was intentional for Odetta to act this way. Still, through their many downfalls, they remained dependent on eachother for most things.

Odetta slowly faded into the background and eventually decided to slip out and head back to her apartment to sulk over Linley and achieve her daily task of trying to come up with some sort of creativity.