With a deep sigh, she shuffled tired old feet in worn down shoes. Her mind had been occupied with dreams of what life might have been, had she taken a different path. What if there had been someone who cared, someone to share things with, someone to love her back.
Of course she knew it was folly to follow such a train of thought; although she couldn't help but wonder as she gazed around her and noted the draft from the cracked window, playing the corner of an old newspaper on the table.
She frowned suddenly. Nothing there truly expressed who she really was.
Reaching for her heavily-thumbed scrap-book, she delved into its pages.
The book contained years of dreams and ideas for her future home, should she ever be fortunate enough to get there. Nothing fancy or over-ambitious. Just the detailed plans for a very special little garden; simple ideas for creating a cozy and comfortable home, and copious notes on the things she'd learned in preparation for both.
This was her journal of an alternative self. Even now, she was adding things all the time.
Just this morning, a scrap of paper was added, depicting the rustic front door of a stone cottage. In the picture was a young fox, sleeping on the doormat in the sun. She loved wild life. To have such visitors find sanctuary at her home, would be a dream come true .
Giving herself a little shake, she looked at the clock. It was almost 6, so she got to her feet and looked out of the window. A big ole alley cat was sitting on the wall opposite, watching and waiting.
He wouldn't come near her, she knew that; but he would accept a saucer of tuna, provided she withdrew and closed the window again first.
A small smile nudged at the corners of her mouth. Alleycat was her hero.
