January 4

About to attempt an explanation, Beam was interrupted by the opening office door.

“Patrick!” Jake greeted a long-haired youth who began using the doorjamb to kick snow off his ripped sneakers.

“Man, I am freezing my ass off.” The new arrival rubbed his reddened hands together.  “Don’t you have a heater in here somewhere?”

“You know, you could try wearing gloves and a hat,” Jake assessed the under-dressed college student.  “Or doesn’t your school budget allow for books and clothes?”

Patrick threw himself into a chair, thrusting his long legs beneath Jake’s desk and just missing Pansy.  “The pathetic amount of money you call my ‘budget’ does not allow for books and clothes and food.  Speaking of food, Nerd Hall’s having a spaghetti and popcorn dinner Saturday night.”

Jake looked dubious.  “Spaghetti…and popcorn,” he repeated.

“Yeah.”  Pat scooped his hand over his wet black hair. “Spaghetti to eat and popcorn to throw. You know, a bit of entertainment.  Hey, Beam!  How’s it going?” 

Beamer leaped into Patrick’s lap; the youth’s cold hands took advantage of the cat’s warm orange fur.  Then Patrick spied Pansy. “Who’s this?”

Beamer began purring loudly.  This was the magical Allsence moment—the point at which information and intuitive discernment came together to create a new direction in someone’s life.  But as so often happens to those faced with change, Pansy resisted.  She cringed deep into the desk’s shadow.  She did not desire any introduction to this gangly, gum-chewing, wild-haired person who was reaching for her.

“Hey, pretty girl.  No collar, huh?” Patrick observed.

Jake swiveled in his chair.  “Nope.  She’s been hanging around for a couple of days. You guys need a mascot at Nerd Hall?”

Pansy stiffened; this kid was from Nerd Hall?  With spaghetti and popcorn and not enough money for gloves or books or food?

Patrick said nothing for a long moment; he seemed to be considering these same conditions himself.  But he said, “Why not?  N.othing E.xcept the R.eal D.eal, right?  This cat looks like the real deal to me.”  He stood up, stuffing Pansy under his ratty sweatshirt so only her head peeked ruefully out.  “Anyway, don’t forget about Saturday night.  Bring friends, and ten dollars apiece.” 

Jake grinned, pointing his pencil at Patrick’s bulging shirt.  “So what are you going to name her?”

Allsence was still in the air because Pat said, “Maybe she’s a harbinger of spring.  How about ‘Pansy’?”