Looking for love ...

A head nuzzled into the hollow between neck and shoulder, tail furled around the throat like a scarf, feeling the vibration of an unceasing purr.  Forcing yourself to step back into your own world after reading a favourite tale of fictitious loves that spun on to their inevitable conclusion, leaving you bereft of your vicarious companions.  Steam rising from that first cup of coffee, delivered to the bedside table with the sunrise.  Faded, sepia-tinted wedding portraits, proudly displayed on walls where the once-fashionable paper has begun to peel, on varnished sideboards with slightly chipped scrollwork, on rickety wooden easels that have seen better days.  A voice that mellows from annoyance to affection.  Water soaking into the soil for thirsty roots to drink, delivered by a soil-streaked hand with dirt-encrusted nails.  A dog's head hanging out the window, tongue lolling as he smiles because the wind is tickling his whiskers.  The aroma of savoury home-cooked meals, clean laundry dancing on the line, Vanilla Fridge Wipe on the countertops.  Strains of Billie Holiday singing "... I'll be seeing you, in all the old familiar places that this heart of mine embraces ..."

Memories, old and new, lost and found.

I feel a fool, for seeking love in all the wrong places when all along, it was staring me right in the face.  I just didn't care to see it.