Evangeline stared back at him.  Smiling.  Always smiling.  Which is how he remembered her for the most part.  Always smiling.  Anton’s heart strings tugged mightily.  Wedding band removal was one thing, and clearly a first step, albeit a tentative one.  You had to start somewhere.  How long would it take him to put her pictures, which were scattered all over the apartment, away?  Or would he ever?  And what of her belongings?  These were questions that were far too loaded for him to seriously contemplate answering right now.<br/><br/>Cradling his favorite photograph of her, which after he picked up from his dresser-drawer left his wedding band spinning briefly before settling at rest, Anton said, “You know I love you, right?  Always have, always will.”  Right index finger slowly tracing the outline of her head, somehow stroking her hair, he admitted, “I think I met someone, Sweetie.  Well, met her, y’know, previously, and then again.  You know how slow I can be.”  Her smile never wavered at his gibberish, as if knowing exactly what he was talking about.  Which of course, she did.  She’d experienced it all herself over the years.<br/><br/>“You know how we always said that if something should happen to you or me, we’d want the other to move on and meet someone else?” Anton asked her.  “I never thought I’d be the one left behind, Eva, but here we are.  And I never for once thought that I’d make even the slightest effort to meet other women.  But I have, believe it or not.”  He laughed at his own expense, then continued, “I know, right?  Miracle of miracles.  You’d like her, too.  Her name’s Stella and she lives upstairs in the same building as us.  So<i>that’s </i>real convenient.”<br/><br/>Laughing again, he went on, “She sings and plays a wicked piano, classical stuff, too.  The first time she played something classical, Lics left me from the bedroom and went to the living room, thinking it was you.”  At the memory, Anton sniffled while repelling any trace of waterworks, actually succeeding, too.  “It’s funny, Eva, that when she plays classical pieces, I know you’d kick my ass if we were playing<i>Name That Tune!</i>”  That also just happened to be the all-out truth.<br/><br/>Anton released a heavy sigh, prior to wrapping things up.  “I have no idea where this is going with Stella, and for all I know, it could go absolutely nowhere.  But I just wanted you to know, love of my life, that I’m at least trying to move on.  I love you.”  Resistance was always futile whenever it came to the prevention of waterworks.  Returning her picture to its spot on the dresser-drawer, he dabbed at his wet eyes with a<i>Kleenex.</i>His ring was also back leaning against the wooden frame.<br/><br/>One guess what the three cats (Anton tended to count Tesla as two) were doing when he ventured into the living room.  Yep, lounging and totally hogging the window seat.  Business as usual then.  Their slumbering forms always produced a smile, and now was no different.  He was again reminded of how much the Maine Coon’s sizeable proportions always belied his gentleness around Licorice.  For that and that alone, the kitty version of the Empire’s<i>Death Star </i>would always remain a “cool and righteous dude,” according to Anton and Ferris and his buds, anyway.<br/><br/>About to shut the stereo down and head off to bed, Anton wavered as the opening dulcet notes from Morphine’s<i>Like Swimming </i>wafted through the speakers.  He’d happily wait for the song’s completion, knowing that it was one of Evangeline’s favorites.  And his, too.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">&gt; &gt; &gt; &gt; &gt; &gt;&lt; &lt; &lt; &lt; &lt; &lt;​</div><br/>Next morning and where were the good-for-nothings?  Where else, but the beloved bench seat by the window.  Skeptical, Anton strolled toward the knocked-out felines.  Confirming with a smile that they were indeed still breathing, the kitchen was his next destination.  Following his breakfast invitation to Stella from last night (and after her acceptance, of course), he knew what would be on the menu.  Necessary ingredients were extracted from the fridge and cupboards.<br/><br/>Food prep in full motion, he felt a familiar body brush up enthusiastically above his right ankle.  “Well, well,” he said mockingly.  Anton was about to say,<i>look what the cat dragged in</i>, but he highly doubted a cat would bother dragging in another cat.  So instead, he said, “Good morning, sleepyhead.  Your boyfriend keep you up late last night?”  His reply was more body-brushing up against his legs.  And purring.  Heavy-duty purring, at that.<br/><br/>A favored ringtone alerted him to an incoming message.  Stella, asking about her ETA and a cat treat.  Response sent on its way, Anton proceeded to the front door to unlock and leave it slightly ajar.  Licorice trotted after him, and trotted after him again as he retraced his route.<br/><br/>Plates were to be served.  Plates that held copious amounts of his custom fried rice (custom in the sense of whatever was on hand), his egg scramble consisting of chunks of Pepper Jack cheese, sliced and diced green bell peppers, and Maui onions were conjoined with sliced and fried Linguica, or Portuguese Sausage.<br/><br/>An emphatic head-snap from Licorice all but revealed Stella’s advance and entry.  She was already inside, having successfully breached his fortified perimeter.  Never mind that Anton’s fortified perimeter consisted of an unlocked front door.