by Jeanne Friscia
This used to be her favorite time of day, the evening light of early summer. Back east she would've walked the docks to see blue crab clinging to pilings in the still river. She’d hear fish breaking the surface for bugs. Someone would glide by in a canoe. Now she looked out the window of her apartment, and felt the weight of the long shadow she cast behind her across the living room floor. Counting on momentum, she put her shoes on, then her jacket, only to return to the window.
Jeanne Friscia doesn't get much done due to her demanding cat. She has a short window of time midday to herself.