The next 24

The next 24 hours were foggy and felt like uncomfortable jeans. I roamed and paced the floors aimlessly. I overfed the cats. I ran a load of nothing in the washer and  I  put my lingerie in the dishwasher. I was disoriented. Well, I was more disoriented than I usually am. In pacing laps around the worn floors I passed by  my other 'beep beep' hanging  by the door. It shivered every time I paced by from its hook on the key plaque, like a puppy ready to go on a ride, can we? can we, huh? can we?a run of fun in the great outdoors. I wrapped my hand around it; ran a finger over the red beep beep button and gently pressed it, then kept pushing it, pushing it, pushing it. No cabrio responded. The memory of that familiar noise moaned a faint echo that ran over and over in my head like a skipped record.

 I curled up in my old red chair and held tight. I was mad with Law and Order because the detectives had been busy catching thieves and murderers when they could have been chasing down the crack dealer right on my street. In fact, if they had worked the case undercover in my zip code, the whole demolition would never have happened at all. In a fair world, the psychic cops would have flashed their badges as the couple got into their car at the bar. The car would never have met the pavement on my street. Oh, the humanity of it all. sigh.