Flowers in the Attic

Guinea pigs, string theories, and old-timey music at the Attic

Back inside, Fancy was playing a co-dependent Peggy Lee song. We both got a bit somber, and I decided to tell him my sad news about my guinea pig. "Oh!" he said sweetly, putting his hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry." He proceeded to tell me about his guinea pig who died when he was a kid, Petunia. "Petunia?" I said. "I just named my new piggy that!"

Whoa, synchronicity, or, like, closed necklaces. Big time. We sat still and listened to the requiem for a rodent, and just like that, I was over my sadness. My universe had reunified.

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