Aggie died. Or I thought she had. I didn’t hear her speak for several days. I heard Lawrence chirping and the click-clack of Flo’s tap shoes as she walked around their kitchen, but no Aggie. No conversation, no banter—no spicy quarrels. Then, this morning, I heard a squeal of joy from Flo; it was Aggie, she’d returned.
As it turns out, Aggie had been away visiting their uncle Lou. I’m unsure the age of this uncle, but it seems unlikely he is a blood relative, unless he has a health regimen that works really well. Either way, how she left was…odd. It all started when Lawerence, Aggie’s bird who has free reign of their apartment, flew up to the headrail of their blinds and wouldn’t come down.
“Lawrence, get down from there!” Aggie shouted. “You’re going to get your tail feathers all dusty!”
Flo laughed, slammed down her palm on something, maybe the kitchen table, and said, “This reminds me of when we would visit Uncle Lou in Shasta. Remember that, Aggie? Oh, w…
