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dragonlady7Across the street, the boys' Catholic school lacrosse team is practicing on the field. (Much blowing of whistles and boyish shouting.) Chita is sitting in the window, looking out, and making bored little "Mrrrr" noises.
"You wanna play lacrosse, kitty?" Z asked. He reached under the coffee table and retrieved the ball that I'd found in our front garden. I don't know if it's a lacrosse ball, but it's small, heavy, and white.
"Here," Z said, and rolled the ball across the floor.
Chita watched it.
It stopped rolling eventually.
She watched it.
After a moment, she walked away.
"Not a lacrosse player," Z said.
"Eh," I said, "there's no money in it anyway."
"You wanna play lacrosse, kitty?" Z asked. He reached under the coffee table and retrieved the ball that I'd found in our front garden. I don't know if it's a lacrosse ball, but it's small, heavy, and white.
"Here," Z said, and rolled the ball across the floor.
Chita watched it.
It stopped rolling eventually.
She watched it.
After a moment, she walked away.
"Not a lacrosse player," Z said.
"Eh," I said, "there's no money in it anyway."
