Venereal syphilis leads to atrophy of the nasal spine and destruction of the anterior palate. But with syphilis, vault lesions are common. The girl’s vault had none.
Congenital syphilis.
Yaws.
Tuberculosis.
On and on. Nothing fit.
At five, I gave up and headed home.
As I concentrated on traffic, my brain cells roamed free range.
Was Birdie due for a checkup?
Haircut.
Ryan.
What the hell, I was tired.
As with the previous topics, cerebral opinions were split.
The pessimists floated an image.
We’d never lived together, but I’d spent nights at Ryan’s place, he at mine. Had possessions migrated? Did Ryan want to talk about reclaiming CD’s?
I began a mental list of objects at my condo. The wine opener. A toothbrush. A bottle of Boucheron aftershave.
Charlie?
“That’s it.” I hit the radio.
Garou was crooning “Seul.” Alone.
I snapped it off.
Birdie greeted me by flopping onto one side, stretching all four limbs, and rotating to his back. Ryan called the maneuver his “drop and roll.”
I scratched the cat’s belly. He must have felt tension in my touch. Popping to his feet, he regarded me, eyes yellow and round.
Partly Ryan. Partly Obeline. And partly being afloat on coffee.
“Sorry, big guy. Got a lot on my mind.”
Hearing my voice, Charlie weighed in. “
Black Eyed Peas. Good job with the training disc, Ryan.
But why that line?
When its battery dies, my smoke alarm shrills until a replacement is inserted. This occurred once on a weekend when I’d left Charlie alone. The cockatiel shrilled for the next three months.
It’s the rhythm, I told myself. Not the lyrics.
I popped in the cockatiel training CD, filled seed and water dishes, and fed the cat. Then I wandered from room to room, each time forgetting the point of my going.
I needed exercise.
Lacing on running shoes, I jogged up the hill, then turned west. On the opposite side of Sherbrooke sprawled
