Others, long gone from my life, have offered me love tokens but never so numerous, and never so often.
The gifts keep on coming, I wish they’d stop but he believes they will curry favor, escalate my affection.
I hear him arrive on the veranda and open the door.
“Oh Squealer,” I sigh, as my beloved cat deposits a half-eaten rabbit at my feet. At least this time it’s not a wriggling mouse or a squawking bird in need of rescue.