Residual

Tonight a friend of mine told me about an apartment coming up for rent in her building. It is approximately the same size as mine and roughly in the same neighborhood but at a considerably cheaper price. How awesome would that be to save a bunch every month but I do have a lease. I also realized I did not want to leave my place here for any amount of cash in the world. I don't want to be anywhere that Money hasn't been. This is where he was last and the thought of leaving that behind was quite disturbing. I want to rearrange my bedroom but refuse to do so. I want everything to be just as it was when he was here. I don't want to erase him. I just want him to come home but I know he won't. I understand the irrationality of all of this. And I am still happy that he is where he needs to be even if it isn't here with me anymore. The items in my room, the stain on the hallway floor that could easily be cleaned up have become physical loci and topoi of my memories. They make sure that I do not forget anything and I am still too afraid that I will. The happy memories of which I have many are still uncomfortable. The other day as I sat on the edge of my bed I suddenly remembered the smell of his breath. I wasn't physically smelling it but my brain distinctly registered it. I found that to be pleasing though anyone who knew him might think I am crazy. He never brushed his teeth! I can feel the weight of his head when he would rest it on my leg or in my hand. I can also feel the weight of his body when he would lay facing away from me with his hind quarters on my shoulder. And the sweet smell of his head between his ears no matter how filthy the rest of him was.