"Missionary Position" - the course title comes to me (delightful 😏 heh) as I am opening the back door to smoke precious last dregs of gnite Drum tobacco because it was that kind of day 😪 oof - and sitting there on my driveway staring at the back door(wall) is a cat. I didn't have my phone so I couldn't snap a picture and can't prove it, but there it was just sitting there, black with white paws, a mittens. it flicked its tail once, "hiya", and then scooted down the driveway outa sight. I think that's the kind of shit that tells you you're a witch, whether you like it or not, which for the most part frankly I do not - it's feverish then lonely by turns. you're heard, somehow, because you very rarely call out, in that way, while in pain. you get a "yep" when you have finally lit a candle for your yourself (your mother) and prayed for help abjectly, giving over, lighting the most audacious candle I had in my arsenal, the "Adult Play" and the one I know my mom would immediately choose given the choice