• Eleanor is eighty-seven years old. She walks to the market each day, wearing a blue polka dotted dress and a hat she uses for yard work. She knows her days are drawing near, but she still tries her hardest. She is working herself to death.

    She brings along someone special each time she goes for a walk. She brings a little cat, named Precious, hooked onto a thin red leash with two silver bells at the neck. Precious, a tiny, gray male tabby prances along with her.

    Little does he know his time is short as well. Only twenty years, at maximum.

    But they're so happy this morning, and the market is only a few steps away. Orange and red leaves tumble down from the trees and land on and around them, swirling up a bliss of dust and nature. Her gummed-up white shoes hit the concrete steadily, straight-footed so she won't topple over. The breeze is suave and chilly around her bare legs as she strides forth with Precious.

    Precious is what keeps her going.

    He's the light in her day. He's what wakes her up in the morning, with harmless claws to her arms and legs. He gives her something to do, for goodness sake, with his relentless energy and humble power, prowling like a lion in the garden, tearing up leaves and eating frightened white mice.

    Eleanor passes a few more houses until she sees the store, big and proud with white bricks and a blue, glowering sign. Albertsons. She doesn't shop anywhere else for her seeds and her manure. It's simply the most efficient, closest place to shop. And the people are nice, too.

    She gets ready to cross the busy street. Okay, she thinks, I'll just wait until the light turns red like I always do. Careful, now.

    Precious seems anxious to cross the street. He tugs gently at the leash, inching forth so he can cross, but the street is far too busy, and Eleanor’s arthritis is acting up, and she can't keep a grip on the leash, and her stomach drops, oh God, how she hopes she isn't coming with him, but he runs out into the street, free and Godless, a lost soul he goes....

    And the red car, she can see it perfectly, can't see little Precious as it glides over him, a sharp smack as he rolls out from under the tire, a giant ball of guts and blood.

    Eleanor just stares, gray eyed at the red car as it drives into the sunset.

    Forever we'll be.