Trust me, I know. I know that it sounds like something right out of a Nora Roberts book. And, trust me again; it felt that way as well. As I attempted to collect myself, feeling and no doubt looking like a drowned rat (blast you, Admiral Rumples!), I prepared to look into the eyes of my incredibly handsome and perfect soul mate. However, my companion in the puddle had already leapt to his feet and walked quickly away, rounding the corner, without so much as a glance at me. Oh. Sorry, Nora, but I guess chivalry is, in fact, dead—or at least severely outdated.
When I finally clambered up onto the sidewalk, cursing and splashing all the way, I heard a faint, whiny meow from the alleyway nearby. Too focused on returning the cat to Mrs. Crumpet and returning myself to my couch-dwelling, I ran into the alley without letting my eyes wander in the direction of my elusive puddle-companion.
Admiral Rumples, quite ungrateful for my rescue mission, was safely returned to the overbearing arms of his blubbering master just in time for his “din-din” and their favorite game show (big eye roll). Still blubbering with gratitude, Mrs. Crumpet promised to bake me a batch of her peanut butter cookies. I suppose this morning’s adventure wasn’t all bad.
I sloshed back up to my apartment with nothing but Netflix on the brain. As I slid off my raincoat and stepped out of my boots, I heard a small “plink” on the floor behind me. I turned around and picked up a tiny silver button that had apparently gotten lodged in the bottom of my boot during my little conquest.
It read, to my now complete bafflement, the initials “F.P.W.”
At the Corner of Main & Merrin 