The Palm Reader's Last Season

The cat appeared on the day Elena packed her life into cardboard boxes. A scrawny tabby with half an ear, it watched from the neighbor's porch as Mitch carried boxes to the moving truck. Elena had loved baseball—those Sunday games at the park where she'd keep score with meticulous care, her palm warm against his during the seventh-inning stretch. That was before she found the text messages. Before she stopped caring about anything.

Now Mitch sat alone in what used to be their living room, surrounded by echoes. The cat scratched at the back door. He let it in, and it wound through his legs like it had always belonged here.

"You're awfully friendly for a stray," he muttered, but his voice cracked. He hadn't spoken since she left.

The baseball season continued without them. He could hear games from neighbors' televisions, the crack of bats, the crowd's roar. Elena had taught him the poetry of the sport—the patience, the ritual, the way a single moment could redeem nine innings of failure. She'd been reading palms at that carnival when they met, told him his life line promised something extraordinary. She'd been wrong about that, at least.

The cat jumped onto the windowsill, tail flicking as it watched leaves fall from the palm tree Elena had planted three springs ago. Their anniversary. She'd kissed him under its fronds, palm against his chest, promises spilling like wine.

Mitch found her baseball cap on the top shelf of the closet—worn fabric smelling of coconut shampoo and summer. He put it on. The cat rubbed against his leg, purring like a small engine.

"Alright," he said, and the words felt like learning to walk again. "Alright."

He turned on the television. Bottom of the ninth, two outs, bases loaded. The cat curled beside him on the couch, warm and solid and heartbreakingly present. Outside, the palm tree's shadow stretched across the yard, and for the first time in three weeks, Mitch didn't mind that he was watching alone. Some seasons end. Others begin when you least expect them to.