John Persons knelt in the damp soil, ruining the knees of his two-hundred-dollar trousers. He did not hesitate. With trembling hands, he gently pried the plastic free. The kitty didn't run. She licked his thumb, her tiny tongue like a grain of sandpaper.
John Persons did not know what to do with love. He knew about quarterly reports, about mortgage rates, about the proper way to fold a fitted sheet. But this scruffy, purring thing that rubbed against his shins while he made his morning coffee? It unnerved him. john persons kitty
She purred in agreement.
His one, unspoken secret was the cat.
That was the sound that undid John Persons. John Persons knelt in the damp soil, ruining
And so, John Persons, the man of gray suits and navy ties, became John Persons, the man with the cat. He still didn't know what to do with love. But he was learning. One tiny, rusty mew at a time. The kitty didn't run