Mist City
---------

It's a foggy day, the world ending closer to my apartment windows than
normal.  It's like there's a new city outside, waiting to be explored. The
long distances are hidden, I can only look at what's immediate. Which
sounds like something I need to do these days, since the long term view is
far too depressing. Loans to be paid off, a failed love life, a job that's
grinding me down, they all stretch into a grey future, like the abandoned
buildings that populate a depressed city, all boarded up. 

I read a story once where the main character liked to walk through the fog
since the tendrils would give way before her, as nothing else in her
life would.

I could use that right now.

The mist continues to approach, covering the whole city as it advances.
The view that I took the apartment for is gone, as is the city that I've
spent the last nine years living in.

I put on my jacket and runners, lock up the apartment with an admonition
to the cat to be good, and head to the elevator. It's the end of the
month, so they take a while to arrive, and give me lots of time to
considering going back where I'm safe from the outside world.  The doors
open and draw me in and down before I can turn back. The usual abrupt stop
at the bottom, and I'm discharged into the lobby. No one's around, it's
after the morning rush of getting to work and school, but my persistent
ear ache has kept me home. Even the computer fan is too loud, and I can't
use the internet as a distraction. I leave my email unanswered and begin
walking. The lake draws me as usual, but I turn left instead, moving
towards the city. The mist brushes against my face like a moist caress,
and I turn left again after I cross King, wanting to walk a less familiar
route, to prolong the magic of wandering a new city. 

Everything's muffled, the trees are wrapped in water dropplets, and all
the sounds are coming from far away. The street car rumbles quietly by,
almost empty, like a red dragon lumbering for the safety of the canyons in
the downtown core. The mist softens the few faces that I pass, smoothing
out the desperation or the boredom, injecting a touch of magic into their
lives too. The street curves around, I stop sit down on one of the benches
that usually has a view of the lake. Today I can barely see the commuter
train as it rushes by in the depression between the street and the
expressways. I imagine the lake on the other side as a cauldron boiling
over with foam, spreading white over the landscape. What cooks down there,
unseen but bubbling? Probably chemicals and dead fish. 

I jump as a cat suddenly twines itself around my legs. It's grey and
blends into the fog, gazing up at me out of the corner of a black eye
until I reach down and scritch it behind the ears. The purrs begin,
wrapping around me. There's no collar, my hand glides from her head to her
tail without interruption, her fur as soft as silk. She jumps up on the
bench and sits next to me, settling down pressed against my thigh as I
continue to stroke her. My gaze returns to the mist shrouded lake, letting
my fingers feel their way on their own. The purrs vibrate through me and
the sound is pure contentment. I broke up with someone once when I
realised that I was getting more affection from my cat than from him, and
I've been teased a few times about living alone but for my cat. A single
woman, cliched. But there's something about unconditional love, well, okay
conditional upon feeding and petting, that's very comforting.  That's all
I really want myself, someone to share space (both mental and physical),
meals, and body warmth with. I've always had an affinity for cats, trying
not to get too cocky about the unfriendly ones always coming to sit on my
lap, but humans have always been difficult to relate to. I'm very
independent and chafe at restrictions, but when I'm given my freedom, I'll
come back for attention every so often, sometimes, granted, demanding it,
and sometimes just requesting it, but often needing a lack of attention,
to be alone, to do my own things. 

I give a heartfelt sigh as the mist wraps more securely around me.  It's
got to start burning off soon, the sun can't be gainsaid forever.  A
separate tendril winds around my ankle, cat like. Then, it starts to
spiral up my leg. I shake it a bit, but it keeps climbing. My fingers
tense on the back of the grey cat, she looks up at me with calm eyes and
I'm caught in her gaze. The tendril is joined by another one on my right
ankle, and two more creep up the legs of the bench and reach my hands.
They thicken as they spiral and cover my chest. Soon I'm wearing a grey
suit that's about to close over my head. Grey stands up, and turns to face
me fully, our eyes still locked. An odd sort of pressure and then my point
of view shifts. Down. Grey begins to groom me. I give my new tail an
experimental swish and groom her back. 

Grey talks to me then, in the secret language of cats, telling me of her
hardships, living without a human, but I don't pay very much attention,
too caught up in my new senses. The mist gives way a bit more to my gaze
now, and sounds are clearer. She gives me a nip and brings my focus fully
back to her. Time to hunt. My human breakfast didn't come with me, it
seems.  We jump off the bench and head down towards the rail tracks. I can
sense the trains, receding and approaching, we're safe for now. I spot a
movement out of the corner of my eye and pounce automatically. The mouse
makes a quick turn and continues on its way. Grey gives chase and catches
it neatly. She doesn't share, so I continue to stalk through the grasses,
belly close to the ground, picking up dead leaves in my fur. Another mouse
gets away. Finally, I spot a beetle that can't outrun me and crunch down
on it with glee. I feel a little more energy now, but Grey's done and is
moving on. I follow her, my only guide in this new life. We wander back up
to the street and dash across, the cars having no chance to hit us. We
dive into an alley way, and explore the garbage left out.  All of the cans
are up on blocks and securely fastened, so we move on towards the main
street, where Grey assures me there is more to be found in the open store
dumpsters. There isn't, others have been there before us. We continue to
wander. A bored child chases us for a while, throwing rocks but not
connecting.  A dog on a leash takes exception to our freedom and expresses
his displeasure in loud, firm tones. We take our revenge by tormenting
another dog in a yard, chained to a post. We sit in a tree for a while,
trying to intercept squirrels, but the rich spring has kept them well fed
and fast. We hop up on a bench for a while, next to a couple of bums who
scritch us and apologise for not having anything else to share. 

As the mist holds on and holds on, we wander my neighbourhood, criss
crossing and backtracking, trying to find food or attention as our
whims dictate. I'm never full, I haven't learned to hunt properly yet.
Finally, as the sun begins to go down, we head back to the bench
overlooking the lake, and settle in to groom each other. As she's
telling me of the fun that can be had at night, when our eyes give us
the advantage, and other nocturnal roamers are out, I notice that the
fog is beginning to lift. The moisture had been an ever present
companion in our fur today, but now it wasn't returning after our
tongues licked it up. I look up and the lake shore has come back into
view, the stones and branches on the beach clear to my sight. I feel a
tugging, and notice a tendril of mist unweaving itself from around my
neck. It continues to unravel, splitting into four, and winding down
my paws. An abrupt shift and I'm human again, sitting on a city bench,
petting a grey cat, who's watching me with a knowing eye.

The sun's almost down, and this isn't the best neighbourhood to wander
around in at night. I give the cat one last pet, wondering how I
managed to waste my whole sick day sitting on a bench, looking at a
lake that wasn't there. I tuck my hands into my pockets and begin the
walk home, pulling on my cloak of worries as I go. 

June 1, 1999
N. Aucoin