After a few dusty days of sorting, tossing, packing, and wrestling with Sherman, Scarlett needed a break. She still needed to call appraisers, call the thrift store that would pick up, and call her friends in the country to settle on a move-in date. A beach amble turned into a ticklish walk through the marsh, Scarlett deep in thought as the sun and breeze lapped at her. “Nature nurtures” she thought.
She felt strong.
Shit-kicking strong. She always did in her favorite boots. Thick heels and square toes were heavy enough to both keep her grounded and serve as a weapon — if it were needed.
Sherman, her dear black cat following a lineage of black dogs named Sherman, came with her. Sherman contemplated a dandelion in the long tickling grass. They breathed in the sun, the breezes, the dragonfly buzzes. When they were full, they went home.