and so it ends, before it barely began.

It is a story of two people who got along and sought to find their way through their differences through frequent communication.

It is a story of the arrival of a newcomer whose presence dramatically altered the dynamics and energy of the house. As my sister stated, and I concur, a third person can very much change the energy dynamics, even if everyone likes each other.

It is a story of a … what … premonition … warning … omen of things to come (if the current course was maintained) in a dream that I had about the time that it was agreed (by owner and third housemate) for her to move in.

Yes, my being and unconscious seemed to know, in retrospect, of the outcome.

It took not long at all; it took hardly two weeks for the noose to suddenly tighten and the rope to unravel.

It’s a story of a person (who would be me) with a cat (rescued, in tow, but not to be kept) finding a sacred and truly inviting and sunny space in which to stabilize, rest and recuperate from the blows of roommates and rapid series of upheavals and … that’s where the story becomes private and not for public consumption.

This is a story about premonition, psychic and intuitive gifts, discounting of them by an other, discounting even of me.

“Leave your intuition at the door,” he told me.

Sooner that I stop breathing.

It is a story about the power and weight of ego and the choices IT makes or sees fit to make without truly listening.

It is a story about loss and the importance of listening, not just dialoguing, discussing and talking but LISTENING.

It is a story about all this and more.

I will be moving. I am to move.

It’s how this story ends.

The story says it all. I’ve nothing further to add.


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