第12部分 (第1/7页)

d　at　myself。　Imagine　getting　all　philosophical　and　sentimental5　about　a　mug　of　coffee。　I　must　be　getting　old。

And　yet　it　was　a　young　woman　who　stared　back　at　me　from　the　mirror。　A　young　woman　full　of　promise　and　hope；　a　young　woman　with　bright　eyes　and　full　lips　just　waiting　to　take　on　the　world。　I　never　loved　Mike　anyway。　Besides　there　are　more　important　things。　More　important　than　love；　I　insist　to　myself　firmly。　The　lid　goes　back　on　the　coffee　just　like　closure　on　the　whole　Mike　experience。

He　doesn’t　haunt　my　dreams　as　I　feared　that　night。　Instead　I　am　flying　far　across　fields　and　woods；　looking　down　on　those　below　me。　Suddenly　I　fall　to　the　ground　and　it　is　only　when　I　wake　up　that　I　realize　I　was　shot　by　a　hunter；　brought　down　by　the　burden　of　not　the　bullet；　but　the　soul　of　the　man　who　shot　it。　I　realize　later；　with　some　degree　of　understanding；　that　Mike　was　the　hunter　holding　me　down　and　I　am　the　bird　that　longs　to　fly。　The　next　night　my　dream　is　similar　to　the　previous　nights；　but　without　the　hunter。　I　fly　free　until　I　meet　another　bird　who　flies　with　me　in　perfect　harmony。　I　realize　with　some　relief　that　there　is　a　bird　out　there　for　me；　there　is　another　person；　not　necessarily　a　lover　perhaps　just　a　friend；　but　there　is　someone　out　there　who　is　my　soul　mate。　I　think　about　being　a　broken　vase　again　and　realize　that　I　have　glued　myself　back　together；　what　Mike　has　is　merely　a　little　part　of　my　time　in　earth；　a　little　understanding　of　my　physical　be