Little Kitchen

August 28, 2011

We got to Santa Cruz in the afternoon after an unbearably hot drive through the valley. The temperature dropped twenty degrees as we crested the mountains, the fog bank already visible offshore. I headed straight for Josh’s house and found him in the shop immersed in a project. Crinkly eyes, apron, kindness.
Tonight I was alone in the apartment. I played Bob Marley and looked at the old photos on the wall. Reminders. I made a little meal in the little kitchen and slept with Bello clenched in my arms.


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