Coco au vin

When we entered my apartment, she went straight to my kitchen.
She was always hungry after rehearsals.
and would make herself something small to eat.
I didn’t mind her sniffin’ around in my kitchen.
I went to my room, took of my coat, wet from the rain.
In the mirror I saw how I had make-up all over my face.
I felt strange. How could they choose Melinda to play that part?
I was supposed to have it. I took a shower, washed away my frustration.
After that I went back to the kitchen to see if Melinda found something to eat.
She was about to take a scale out of the oven.
I couldn't believe my eyes. It was my cat Coco in there, surrounded by potatoes and thyme.
The cat didn’t move, but just meowed and looked at me with very sad eyes. I was shocked.
“It’s funny, don’t you think, this cat has been in the oven for one hour and it’s still alive…”.
She looked at me, waiting for my answer. As if this was the most normal thing in the world.
“Yes... but it will probably die very soon now...” I replied

"You think?" She asked. She wanted to pick Coco up.
“NO!” I yelled “If you pick her up, she will probably fall apart. She’s totally burned out inside.”

That night the moon was huge and fiery red. The streets were restless. Filled with the constant sound of police sirens. Cosmologists had never seen anything like this. Religious were praying, sure apocalypse had come. I woke up in my couch, covered in sweat. I must have fallen asleep. Melinda was gone.
I saw the empty bottle of wine and her glass.  Her lips had left a red lipstick mark. She forgot her coat. Everything felt so unreal and I didn't remember the last part of our evening.
The next week Melinda wasn't at the rehearsal. Nor the week after that.
I never saw her again.