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About Nice

Once knew this gal—Mary, I think? Worked the truck stop near Wilmington. She’d tell ya—straight up—how truckers’d pay extra for weird stuff. Like, foot rubs! Foot rubs, folks! Made me chuckle—big tough guy, cryin’ for toes. She’d say, “Joe, they’re lonelier than me.” Damn, that hit hard. “We’re only here briefly,” Adam’d say—movie gets it, ya feel me?

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When I get there, I see her standing outside her house on Rue des Écoles, looking like she’s about to faint. I climb up the ladder, and there’s Mr. Whiskers, just chilling like he’s on a vacation. I swear, that cat looked at me like, “What’s the fuss?” I’m up there, trying not to laugh, and I finally grab him. He’s all purring and stuff, like he didn’t just give his owner a heart attack.

Les pensées de Pascal (Quignard)