“There is one place that all the people with the greatest potential are gathered and that’s the graveyard.”
I got a carwash the day Izzy died. The Mistress had been covered in soot and street salt from our wisp of a winter, so I paid for the deluxe wash and got her tires shined and her undercarriage buffed. My car sparkled in the newness of spring. And then it rained. Without hint or warning from the weatherman, it rained a torrential downpour all over my clean car parade. This is the sort of thing that would have made Izzy laugh. With cynical resolve, she would throw back her head, brandishing her tongue ring, and let out a hearty “Ha! Perrrrrfect!” But, as I was getting my car washed, Izzy was leaving this earth.