23 days.
Could it really have been such a short space of time since Jasmine had moved into the apartment with her?
Right now, she could barely remember a time when they hadn’t been together.
23 days.
552 hours.
33,120 minutes.
1,987,200 seconds.
A movement glimpsed at the edge of her vision brought Candy back into the moment.
Without looking up from her John Irving, Candice – as only her mother still insisted on calling her – nonetheless still relished every graceful motion.
Jasmine flowed smoothly across the room, impossibly long legs barely seeming to expend an ounce of energy, her head held confidently high, but also enquiring, almost hesitantly, tilted slightly to one side.
Supreme confidence undercut by an innate skittishness which could cause her, at any given moment, to suddenly retreat into uncertainty and self-preservation.
Candy couldn’t suppress a smile as Jasmine settled herself on the sofa next to her and lay down, stretching out with her head resting gently in Candy’s lap.
23 days.
Such a short time to feel completely seen, completely accepted, completely… complete.
She thought back to those colder, darker February evenings a little over a month ago, when she’d sat in this same spot, scrolling through endless channels in a search for something to lift her mood.
Now here was this Other.
Like the weather outside the floor-to-ceiling windows of the apartment, the future now held a promise of warmer, brighter, more hopeful times.
Candy stroked the head in her lap gently. “Come on you, dinner.” She heard the smile in her own voice.
As if she understood the words, Jasmine mewed loudly, hopped off the sofa and pranced across the stripped floorboards to her food bowl, tail aloft, ears pricked forward in anticipation.
“23 days,” thought Candy. “Such a short time to turn a life around.”









