I jumped right in head first, fully immersing myself into a seedy lifestyle that includes daily visits to the local bar, where not only Stella knows me by first name, but now so do most of the regulars. My drinking binge is the only effective means I have of sealing the vacuum in my heart that threatens to swallow me whole. Nothing else subdues the deep, crippling pain that overwhelms me every time a thought, image, or memory of Cat slips into my consciousness. I know that something deep inside me is slowly changing but I can't say for sure what it is. My telepathic communication with the others is becoming erratic, with static interruptions, like a bad cell phone connection. I have lost my ability to make any outgoing mental connections, and rely solely on the others' united energy to connect with me if we want to talk in our nonconventional way. At just past noon on Christmas Eve, I am sitting in my familiar seat at the far end of the Best Western Bar. Stella doesn't bother asking for my order.
