Heartbreak
August 30, 2026
Apparently, heartbreak was running wild this week…
I should have been packing today — but that open suitcase carried more aches than thrills… I have spent most of the day looking at my little pride of bandits like I am being sent to war…
Venice sounds like fun, but not so much when you have a double-digit number of felines and two canine accomplices. Sincerely, even leaving the house for an afternoon requires emotional preparation…
And then there is Davíd — my favorite, and currently my biggest source of emotional damage.
He was gone for three days this week. By day three, I had already leaned into the genre of tragedy — staring into the distance, romanticizing our time together, mourning a reality where his name no longer echoes through the yard… when suddenly, he made quite the comeback — by getting into a fight with the neighbor’s dog.
One broken leg, an entire day at the vet, and a splint he absolutely hates later, this morning Davíd fled the premises and hit the road again…
So there I was, heartbroken over leaving my babies, one of whom was literally broken, while somewhere else John was quietly getting his heart broken the old-fashioned way…
By a woman.
For legal, moral and entertainment purposes, I’d like to call her Cathy Ames II.
John had been trying to date her for a while, although “dating” might be generous considering there was always some invisible international emergency preventing the relationship from going anywhere.
She wants him, she needs time. She likes him, but it’s complicated. And intimacy is always somewhere on the distant horizon, occasionally visible but never quite reachable due to the stars, weather forecast, emotional climate, Mercury, humidity and perhaps the electrical grid constantly conspiring against it.
John, unfortunately, liked her enough to negotiate with his own instincts.
Last night, however, something felt wrong.
They spoke on the phone. She was tired and didn’t feel like doing anything. She was going to bed. She also seemed unusually eager to end the conversation…
No, there was nothing particularly incriminating about it… But John had a feeling.
So before going home, the idea of driving past her apartment crept in.
The man didn’t have a plan or any dramatic intention. He just parked outside, finally surrendering to an instinct he couldn’t silence.
And just as he pulled up, another car stopped.
A man got out.
John immediately knew where that man was going…
Our leading man found himself alone in his car at some ungodly hour, staring blankly into the darkness, suddenly feeling like a character in a ’90s R&B music video…
And just when he thought this couldn’t get more brutal, a few feet above him, things were quickly escalating…
While John was trying to gather what remained of his soul, the object of his affections was, by the sound of it, expressing a rather different range of emotions.
From Cathy Ames II’s bedroom window spilled a rather enthusiastic chorus of cries and breathless exclamations, drifting through the night air. Somewhere in the void, they broke in uninvited, and John sat there… listening to the sound of his own heartbreak.
So John went home heartbroken.
Meanwhile, I still hadn’t packed.
Sometimes getting what you want breaks your heart too.
Maybe heartbreak isn’t always the villain of the story.
Other times, it’s just the wrong place, wrong time.
Thank you for reliving this moment with me!
See you next Sunday at 4.
Love, Kiki
