Lucky

I know this is so self-centered, but I think this guy was hanging out on our apartment stairwell steps just to raise my blood-pressure. We called him Lucky, because god only knows how he survived for so long when everyday or every few hours he decided to chill on a different step, blending in as his predecessors ensured he would, waiting to be stepped on.  I consider this a major adaptation-backfire.  Walking up and down the apartment stairs became a game of "Where's Lucky?! Is he still alive?  Should we feed him some bugs?  How is he eating in here?  Where the hell is he?  He was on this step when we left. I think we should spray paint him orange.  Do you think the neighbors know to look out for him!? There he is.  Damn it, Lucky!"    Exhausting.

Lucky disappeared one day and he hasn't been seen since.  Maybe he realized this was Asheville and not Nashville, or maybe he finally got that call from his baby mama wanting him back. We'll probably never know.