Chapter One: Nicolina Buys a Cat and Names Her Cheese Burger

Or him, she’s not picky on the gender..or maybe she is, she can’t decide. Maybe she needs some sort of male energy.  No…female energy, She definitely needs female energy to fend off all the male energy imposing in and walking [moving] out around her.

Like the roommate who was supposed to be just a friend who once told her he thought they could be otherwise and then made her mother dinner and left her love notes on her mirror.  Borrowed money, stole time, and then told people who barely knew her behind closed doors in open concept kitchens that she was trying to trap him with a baby.  He had to ‘throw her off his dick’ he said  (as if her world was so desperate a thirty year old, closet drug addict was her only way out).

Moved out over night.

Chalked her up to a ‘manic psychopath’ and split.

Not paying one bill.

Not shedding one tear.

Not giving one fuck.

Or like the friend of fourteen years

Who was given her best friends virginity in 10th grade

Who used to tag along with her and her high school sweet heart

Who has always been a brother and a confidant

Who the other night admitted: “I’m attracted to you.”

Who took over half a life’s worth of friendship and chalked it up to:

“We would have great sex.”

Part of Nicolina thinks a cat makes sense, low maintenance companionship.

She also always imagined herself to be more a dog kind of girl, but who is she to say now-a-days anyway?

Recently the ex-roommate (when he was still a friend and not a short lived two week lover) told her that she looks at the world from an inward perspective… she lets what the world thinks of her dictate her life instead of what she thinks of the world.

She knows he was right.

Just like the stranger she met out the other night who drunkenly told her he knows she got her nose pierced because she had been in love once and he had abandoned her. She needed to do something drastic so if he ever decided to come back he wouldn’t be able to find the Nicolina he had left behind.

Just like the old friend and ex-lover who FaceTimes from a thousand miles away because ‘he knows how Nicolina gets’ and he ‘hates the idea of her being by herself.’

But with a cat, Nicolina wouldn’t actually be alone and if she died in the empty apartment at least the cat would still be fed (so at least she wouldn’t have to worry about that).

The litter box could go in the bathroom closet, and she could learn to nurture something that doesn’t want to get fucked. Something that lets her be nice without thinking she’s coming on to it.

She could post photos of her with the cat on Instagram so that the world could see Nicolina detached from her pussy, giving time to let Nicolina decide how she sees the world.

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