He lives under her, caressing her with his left mind as she dreams. He lives before her, smoothing her disheveled hair with his eyes, tasting the moisture out of her mouth as, she walks. He had built houses. This one was for himself and sold to the family. He had no need for the money. He had bargained for the family, for her. He almost missed it when he opened the garage. It had went out rummaging for two nights, and it came back limping and sick. He took it to the vet, and the youngster flipped and rolled it on tlie table several times. He was told to leave it in the care of the clinic for a day. An hour later, he was told that his cat had died. He gaped at the object, and grew numb at the effort. It was stiff when he scooped it into ajar. He had decided to do nothing until morning after he regained his senses. The cat's carcass laid immersed in its own fluids. It had vomited to get rid of it. He walked into the clinic and cleaned. He signed at the thought of having to confront the cops about this matter. Maybe he could just dispose of it with his daily trash. The jar tumbled, and the finger moved. He stormed out of the room seconds later. They carelessly knocked over a tray of equipment when they came in. The vet refused to unscrew himself from the chair in the station. They were told to pick up a body piece of the presumed victim, and they brought back a live one. He stirred in his sleep, slopping through himself slowly, urgently, to locate the tinge of excitement. She dawdled, the pages fluttered to her feet. The glibness she had studied among the others was sluiced away. She stood vulnerable in front of him, transparent at this moment. She watched as he stiffened emotionally. He shifted. The bobbing clamor belched from the rift that channeled the door. It stretched its arms wide to immure her breath. He laid his cheek against hers. savoring the warmth that oscillated over the surface. She had lounged at the corner of him, the lassitude tied her limbs to the floor. Her scent had turned pungent. She dwindled. He shivered and regaled himself with her existence. He had gone to the funeral. His body shifted languidly as he mourned the loss with her family. Their devastation drove him back to the house, her room. He licked the air for her flavor as he embraced it. The forgoing of her body to the earth had made him satisfied. He had known her as no one had known her, and he now possesses her without the interference other and time. The world ages beyond this room, beyond him and his flesh that is soaked in her essence. Pieces of him scudded between the walls, through the colors, while his eyes hung before all.