"When you're alone and life is making you lonely…"

The song always made David sad. The familiar lyrics completed themselves in his head as the cheerful tones droned through the convenience store speakers, and once again, he was overwhelmed with inexplicable melancholy. He stared at the speaker attached to the corner of the ceiling. Shaking his head, he finally broke free and went to complete his mission.

There was only one problem. 1% or 2%?

Audrey hadn't specified before sending him out to pick up the milk. He tried to remember which kind she usually bought. He stood before the rows of dairy products in the refrigerated section, gradually becoming colder, wondering why he had never noticed the labels on the milk jugs at home. He knew the ones his wife bought had pink caps. But all these had blue ones.

This was becoming more complicated than he'd expected. How difficult could it be to buy milk? Finally, he selected the 2%. It was on sale.

At the front counter, he paid the cashier and responded vaguely to the chitchat he tried to engage. David thought about the what he'd done the night before to the thug in the alley and whether Audrey would be mad at him for not buying the 1%. He was glad today was a day he would spend with his family.

He made his way out the door and stepped aside for the man walking in, but not fast enough. They brushed shoulders, and instantly David saw something that was not the convenience store at all, but the dark gray memories of the man's ugliest moments.

A red pickup moves down a driveway. The driver is distracted, not watching closely. Inside the cab, he feels the back tires hit something with a surprising jolt.

"Aw, man," he says. He brakes, cracks the door and looks out. Under the pickup is a black cat, three of its paws white, and its entire middle section crushed almost flat.

The man steps from his truck and examines the cat. "Jesus," he mutters unhappily. He looks down the street to the house where the little boy lives. The little boy plays with that cat on the front lawn every day and chases it inside every night, but he isn't out now. The man takes a quick look up and down, then kicks the dead cat into the storm drain next to his mailbox. He gets in his truck and drives away.

"Sorry," the man who owned the red pickup told David.

David did not respond. He left the store, one hand holding the 2% milk in a plastic bag, his eyes unfocused as he slowly came to a stop on the sidewalk.

"I was planning to have the day off," he said to himself. He supposed the milk, however, could wait.


"Don't you have any older cats?" he asked the woman at the animal shelter. She was becoming rather impatient with him. He'd inspected five rows of caged kittens, every one adorably mewling and scampering with its playmates, but none satisfactory.

"We don't keep the adult felines very long. They are hardly ever picked up and the kittens find homes much easier. Most of them are in bad health and require a lot of medical care anyway, so they are euthanized after two weeks here."

"Oh," David said. He looked at a happy pair of gray kittens pouncing on each other.

"Well, I think we did get an adult cat in a few days ago. Let me see if he's still here…" She began to walk down the hallway and came to a closed room. David followed her into it.

"Yes, this is the one. He's pretty old, though. Are you sure you don't want a kitten?"

All the cages were empty except for one, which held a scruffy orange tabby. He looked mean, undoubtedly male, and annoyed by their presence. David stuck a finger into the cage and was rewarded with a stroke from the cat's cheek.

"He's a good cat. I'll take him."


Sixty dollars lighter, now holding a cardboard carrying box that occasionally jumped, in addition to the milk, David stepped off the bus in a quiet neighborhood. He walked around a little until he found the house from the vision. The red pickup was parked in the driveway and next to the mailbox was the storm drain. He walked down the street to a house with several abandoned toys, including a plastic tricycle, scattered around the front yard. No one was in sight.

Balancing his cargo in one hand, David opened the gate and walked up to the front door. He put the cardboard box on the front step and cautiously pulled one flap open to check on its occupant.

"Well, I hope you have a nice life here," he said to the orange-eyed tabby. There was no response.

He pushed the doorbell once, then walked back down the front steps, closing the gate behind him, and hoped the cat had the good sense to stay away from the neighbors.


Audrey was repainting the living room when he got home. It was half grayish-green and half butter-yellow now and looked rather odd, but he trusted it would look all right in the end.

Audrey had yellow paint on her face when she turned to greet him. "You were gone a long time. Go somewhere else?"

"I bought a cat."

"What? What cat?" Audrey jumped down from the stepladder and went to David. Her hair was sticking out at funny angles. David wiped a smear of paint from her chin.

"I'll tell you about it later."

She broke out a smile and gave him a peck on the cheek. "I see you were successful in buying the milk," she said with her arms around his neck.

"Mmm-hmm," David said, and he showed her the jug, pulling it from the plastic bag.

"Oh, David," she said, her face falling, "I always buy skim milk. I guess I should have told you."

"It'll be all right as long as we're together," he said. He was glad it was his day off.