The Torrid Mouse

A letter to the cat.

To pace under an angry moon to hear the bats calling their names, to know the stars look at me with such contempt, this is the way of the Torrid Mouse.

Guns blazing, bodies stacking, to empty a room of the gutless bounties of the world, to see the streets full of eyes that no longer love or trust you; this is the way of the Torrid Mouse.

The street lights mock me. The wind chills me. The puddles of the night vex my every turn. I turn my collar up and pull my hat down low; this is the way of the Torrid Mouse.

Love has abandoned me, fate follows me, death; he stalks me. My only friends are the sound of my shoes upon the hard cobble road; this is the way of the Torrid Mouse.

Laughter eludes me, anger pursues me. The strength to carry on is my only vice, and hope, HA! Hope escaped from my Pandora's Box long ago; this is the way of the Torrid Mouse.

I do not look to renew hope. I do not look forward to brighter days. I do not wish to find another love. I do not evade all my sins, this is the way...hell, this is my way.
Yours truly,
The Torrid Mouse.
P.S. I have nothing left to lose, we end this tonight. I'll be waiting.