The Altar. James Arthur Anderson

      Melissa Jones frowned as the man hung the poster of the cat on the window of the Dairy Mart. He’d told her mother that the cat was lost, and that made her feel bad. She’d had a puppy once and it had run out into the road and had been hit by a dump truck. That was when she was just a little girl, but she still grieved.

      But that seemed like such a long time ago. Since then her parents had divorced and she’d been living with her Dad in Miami for the last two years. But she’d fallen for a boy in her class and her Dad had sent her back to New England as punishment. Now she’d be staying with Mom in the store. She was afraid it was going to be a long summer. There weren’t any kids her age in this hick town, let alone cute boys.

      It wasn’t even lunch time yet and she was already bored. She watched the man with the lost cat take a jug of milk out of the cooler. She felt bad about his cat. It looked really cute in the picture, like it was the kind that purred when you pet it. Maybe she could help and find the cat. That would be good. Anything would be better than staying here and waiting on customers.

      “Mom, can I go outside? Maybe I can look for the man’s cat.”

      “I don’t think so,” her mother said from her seat behind the cash register.

      “But I’m bored. And it’s a nice, sunny day outside.”

      “I’d rather you stayed here with me.”

      “Can’t I just go for a walk?”

      “Maybe later,” he mother said.

      Melissa knew what that meant. It meant it was going to be a long, boring summer spent inside the boring store and watching people buy bread and milk and ice. All of her friends in Miami would be outside now at the beach, or swimming in the pool.

      “It’s not fair,” she mumbled as she watched the man with the lost cat pay for his bread and milk.

      His eyes locked with hers for a moment, and, although he tried to smile, she saw that he looked scared, almost like the way her Mom had looked when her Dad had first left. She didn’t like it when adults looked scared.

      “That man must really miss his cat,” she said quietly after he had left.

      “What did you say?”

      “Nothing,” she replied.

      But she really would like to help the man find his lost cat. Maybe she’d get a reward. Or at least she’d get to pet the cat. She looked over at her mother and yawned. All the while, the gearbox of her mind was hard at work.