For eleven years you have read me here. I am still here. But I am also writing on Medium now — longer essays, book reviews, and the kind of prose that arrives at midnight and demands to be written. Come find me: medium.com/@etoile1291
Category: Novellas
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emotion bin
Why do I always feel guilty and remorseful about things I am not wholly responsible for, the faux pas?
And I have a reason to think so.
Today, the accounting clerk – more of a delivery guy – was supposed to pick up a returned check from a vendor, but he wasn’t, and the accounting department was behind him by not answering my questions about why he didn’t pick up the check. Did I do something unforgivably or gravely wrong? Was my calling the guy “Hey George” enough to irritate his nerves? But don’t they at the firm call each other “Hey?” Oh, I got it. So they can say hey, but me. It’s not the same, hey. It’s a different hey from mine. I got it.
Still, it’s a job, and what if someone – and most possibly the guy himself – steals the check and appropriates it to frame me so that I will be fired from the job? I have a valid reason to speculate the scenario: that guy smirks at me and is always happy to ignore me when saying hi and hello, and what’s up to everyone but me. Too sensitive? Of course, when you and he are alone in an elevator, and there’s only radio silence, except for his malicious and vile smirk? Oh, yes, definitely sensitive.
The check was not returned and is supposedly kept in our desk drawer in the office. I worked from home today, and I asked my colleague in the office to keep it in the drawer. I hope the delivery guy or his kindred accomplice will not do anything malicious to wreak havoc on my career and sanity.
I am writing this because otherwise, I would feel like I cannot sleep. So, by writing the litany of woes, I hope I can get rid of the evil spells or exorcise demons hell-bent on gripping my soul, dragging me to hell.
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Prompt 81
Can you share a positive example of where you’ve felt loved?
I love you Toro ❤️🥰 I feel love with Toro, the Tabby General, the only one I can say, ‘ I love you.’ It’s emotionally taxing to work human’s love to be loved as if it were a quid pro quo deal or a meritocratic reward. But with Toro, it is anything but.
Of course, I also love Camille, the Puss in Black Socks, but Toro is the center of my existence. He is all love and life. Toro is the only one who sees me gladly and greets me with his little head, bunting my leg and hand forcibly, even when I am sulky and miserable. He also sleeps at my feet or sometimes next to me when I sleep as though to dispel nightmares. He knows what I am feeling inside and who I am. Looking at his eyes is seeing my soul reflected in the emerald sea sparkling with curiosity and soothing with lullaby.
I confide in Toro the maladies of my heart and secrets. Shakespeare said, “Love All, Do Wrong to None, and Trust a Few.” Toro is one of those a few I trust. I read a letter written by Elizabeth Taylor to her beloved cat who went missing after they moved to a house in California from England. I could feel her love toward her missing cat so much that it almost felt physically hurtful for the sorrow she expressed.
Toro will turn four years old this August and is in good health now, but I am also worried that he will leave me someday. I can’t imagine a world without him and life without his love. So I always ask him to live with me as long as possible and to leave this world together when our times on earth are due. There’s no one like Toro who is as kind and affectionate as he is. He is my friend and my brother. I love him so much in every universe.
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Happy World Introvert Day⭐️🍀🧚♀️
Alone but Curious🧚♀️ Without my subscription to the newsletter “Letters of Note” by Shaun Usher, I would not have known that today was “World Introvert Day.” In celebration of the Feast of Introverts, I want to share some of the scintillating comments on the solace of solitude relished by the great writers of all time, which are selected by Usher, the founder of the Letters of Notes series, now also presented as in live shows where famous thespians – primarily British – including the excellent Benedict Cumberbatch, narrate many of the great letters from the series.
Elizabeth Bishop must have felt the same as I do many times when I am forced to be in situations where I must pretend to be outgoing and all-around friendly to be with, joking and laughing in nonstop chattering: “After being so social… I don’t feel like myself at all. I’m exhausted all over but particularly the dace, which I suppose comes from wearing a horrible fixed grin for so long.” From her letter written on November 10th, 1948.
But Sylvia Townsend Warner’s letter to David Garnett, written on September 2nd, 1970, won the olive wreath with a gold medal: “I live in a house too large for me, with three cats, and when the telephone rings and it is a wrong number, I feel a rush of thankfulness.” It’s a witty felicity of comfort in the company of romantic solitude. No, it doesn’t mean she is antisocial, but not everyone is outgoing, and outgoing people are not always positive, adept, or healthy. You can’t put people on the polar ends of the continuum of personalities and see them only in black and white.
Surrounded by the crowds of vocal extroverts at work, where quiet is synonymous with sullen and too severe, I cannot help but agree with the writers mentioned earlier, for my sentiment shares with theirs. Perhaps it’s because we write, and writers are different tribes of people who hear and see things not recognized by those who are not.But for what’s worth, it doesn’t matter if you call yourself an Introvert or not because, as Ernest Hemingway chipped, just be content with what you are and how you are: “I don’t know what an introvert is, but if that is what you are may all my children be then.” Ditto.
For your eyes only ✨ -
prompt 63
What relationships have a positive impact on you?
Little more than kin, and less than kind: Toro and Camille frm L to R 
Relationships are a web of connectivity that can be toxic or beneficial. Of my web of relationships, I treasure the ones connected to my team at work and my cats at home.
My new team manager neither scolds me nor drives me to the highest level of stress, which is detrimental to my health, especially the neurological aspects. She gives me the autonomy to perform my tasks at my own pace and style, and I always get the jobs done on time or beforehand. Her liberal management style, blended with concise organizational skills and firm leadership, lets me utilize the best of me in performing my assignments efficiently.
Also, my relationship with my cats Toro and Camille has provided me with emotional warmth and a sense of togetherness, which I find hard to receive from my fellow humans. Toro and Camille are transparent in expressing their emotions and unique in looking into my inner world. They know who I am and greet me when I return home as if they knew about my wrestling with the existential dilemmas and despair from working in the office packaged with favoritism, cliques, and discrimination. My cats are indeed little more than kin and less than kind.
In conclusion, my relationships with the current team manager and my cats have felicitous effects on my continuous ebbs and flows of mood waves as kind nurses tell me that I am doing fine and will do fine.
Flame, Glass and Ink are Poems, essays, and reading notes by Stefania Joori Suh 
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