I yearned to go back to the alleyways and watch the surprisingly sophisticated cats batting at each other.
Instead I was with a woman.
I was never good with people, especially females. They surpassed me entirely. After a while, I learned to ignore the constant hum they made whenever they were around me. To me they were like flies around a light bulb.
"Who are you?" She asked me blatantly, pointedly. I shrugged. She leaned back and put her feet up against the table, not giving up on the oh so pointless question.
Who am I? I was astounded that she even cared. I used to be interesting, I thought to myself. I used to be alive. I had a job, I had friends, I had places to go and people to see. But once those places had all been visited and once those people had all been seen, what was I going to do? Find some more?
I hoped so, but hopes fade, sort of like tan lines. She had no tan lines. She was pale.
"I'm Jordan." I looked at her from over my cup. She put hers down and stuck out her hand. She wore a cheap silver ring with a plastic flower on it upon her second finger.
From then on she was no Jane or Sara. She wasn't even an Emily. She was Violet.