The Sea of Tranquility

by Katja Millay

The iridescent painted cat she insisted I buy her is between us on the seat, and I can’t wait to get home because it’s scaring the crap out of me. I think she saw the fear in my eyes when she picked it up at the store, and after that, there was no way she was walking out without it. I told her I’d rather buy her a bracelet to replace the one she lost on her birthday, because I really did feel shitty about that, but she said no. She said it would be inappropriate, whatever that means. I guess nightmarish ceramic cats are acceptable because that’s what she’s got. Every time she looks at it she smiles and it’s worth ten times what I paid for it. “Thanks for coming,” I say, just to have something to say while she’s digging her keys out of her purse. “Thanks for the cat.” She smiles again, picking it up and holding it up to her face. “I named him Voldemort.” She puts it in her lap like it’s a real cat and for a minute I’m afraid it might actually bite her. “My pleasure,” I say, and I mean it, even if it sounds dumb.