Читать книгу The Tree Within - Stephen Campana - Страница 8

Well, at least I’ve got a job, Jack thought as he rinsed and spat in the sink of the bathroom at the Silverton Public Park. A couple of paychecks and I’ll get a room somewhere.

In the meantime, he was homeless. Not hardcore homeless, living in alleys, eating out of the trash, and pushing around a wagon full of empty cans. This was more of a temporary, between homes homelessness.

He put the toothbrush back in a baggie, along with his comb and a razor blade, tossed them in his backpack, and left the bathroom. He walked down a narrow, gravelly path, past some tennis courts, and over to a cluster of park benches which surrounded some picnic tables. He placed the back pack on the table, unzipped it, and pulled out a blanket. Then he brought the blanket over to the bench, kicked off his shoes, and laid down, face up, on the bench.

The night sky was full of stars. He started counting them. It was something he did to help him sleep—a trick his dad had taught him on the camping trips they used to take together when he was a kid. Back when he used to have a real life. As he lay there, he heard a strange, low-pitched rumbling. Without getting up, he looked around, cutting his eyes this way and that. He heard it again. It was coming from under the picnic table. It was a cat. Growling softly, the creature approached him, then stopped, midway between the table and the bench, pondering whether or not to proceed further. Jack put a hand on the concrete and tapped, encouraging the feline to come forward. Slowly, and with great deliberation, it did. Jack stroked it. It purred. Slowly, trust was established, and the cat climbed into the bench with Jack, curling itself into a ball in his chest. Cuddling the cat like a pillow, Jack’s breathing slowed, his eyes grew heavy, and his body grew cooler. Soon both he and the cat were fast asleep.