The next morning, Jenny rolled out of bed, reluctantly, petting Princess. Princess stretched, showing her fat, fluffy, tummy, demanding a rub. Jenny obliged, peeled off her nightgown, and took a quick shower.
The humidity was horrific, she mused, staring at the white plastic wall of her shower enclosure. When would it end?
She dried off, dressed, and took out her Bible. Yes, she had problems with religion, but she didn't have issues with God.
10 miles away, Charlie closed his Bible and turned on the TV news as he ate an energy bar. Unlike Jenny, he didn't have to eat at set times in accordance with a dosing schedule. He could also eat whatever he wanted, when he wanted, without having to choke down an oversized handful of toxic drugs. Poor Jenny, he mused.
What? He turned up the volume as the newscaster announced Hurricane Kitty was taking a turn for Houston. Oh, crap.
Jenny lived in a trailer.
Jenny, in the meantime, had just heard the news on her small radio. She sat and thought for a few moments, a fierce desire for independence battling against the inevitable conclusion.
She couldn't stay. It wouldn't be fair to Princess, if nothing else.
She had to stay with someone. Mom, or Charlie?
She picked up her cell phone and started looking for the cat carrier.
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