REENTER FLESH. ENERGY PULSATES BELOW the crust. Night sky cuts into the grave. The sound of paws digging up chunks of Earth. The sky was the other direction. The great cat was clawing the wrong way. The lioness pulled me out of the dirt only to gently drop me in a patch of grass encircled by homes for the rich. I fall out into the grass dry heaving. It takes supreme focus to bring the air back in my lungs.
Wasting no time, the lioness tramples the “No Pets” sign, before taking a quick piss on it. Sitting, stretching, digging up gravel - she can’t seem to get comfortable. Restlessly pounding her hips into the pole flying old glory. I can hear her heart beating through her chest. She’s taking fervid breathes.
Birds are chirping on the grotesque trees. Footsteps blend with the wheels and engines outside the fences. Squirrels poke their heads out of the bushes spying on the lioness squatting. The sweet smell of flowers gets me soaring. I see the cubs head emerge from the great cat. I can’t fucking believe it. Here in the middle of New York City where anything can happen and routinely does. The lioness begins cleaning the cub with her tongue. She checks on me while purring, concerned with my presence. I don’t want to move. An echoing roar designed to wake up the whole insomniac town gets me on my feet squeezing the leather strap of the duffle bag.
I gently close the iron door behind me. I’m facing the townhouse where I first stared into Percy Featherton’s lifeless eyes. I cross the narrow street. The waist-high gate swings open with a squeak. I stumble up the stoop. Somebody left the door open for me a crack. I give it a slight push with my bandaged stub of a hand coming to grips that I am entering the center of my soul.