October 8, 2025 #heels

The next morning, my sage stick was down to a nub and Joe was still missing—if his ex really crossed over last night, she apparently brought luggage.

Sally was pacing in her mumu like a director whose leading man hadn’t shown up for curtain call. 

Darling, she said, hands on hips, if Joe’s hiding from Donna, I don’t blame him. That woman could argue with a mirror and lose gracefully.

Cat, sitting cross-legged midair (apparently gravity is optional), blew a slow bubble. He told me stuff about her last week, she said, the gum snapping sharp. Said Donna stopped believing in God after everything went wrong. Said she doesn’t believe in anything now. Like, she’s spiritually… logged out.

Sally gasped. Logged out?! You mean she’s unsubscribed from the Almighty?

Cat nodded. Pretty much. She said when life kept glitching, she just hit ‘delete account.’

I snorted coffee through my nose. 
Okay, that’s tragic - and - a little bit iconic.

Sally wagged her cigarette. Darling, she’s not faithless—she’s just on hold with Heaven’s customer service. You know: ‘Your redemption is very important to us, please stay on the line.’

Cat cackled so hard her hoodie strings fell completely loose. For the first time, I saw her whole smile—wide, luminous, almost mischievous. 

Can’t wait to meet this Donna. She sounds like she’d fight the angels for a refund.

The lights flickered once, twice. Sally froze mid-laugh.

Careful what you wish for, darling.

And somewhere in the corner, faint as breath on glass… I swear I heard heels.
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