These are the lost days. The ones that do not aspire toward recovery. At the end of days, when all is lost, these days will be even more lost than the others.
On days like these the fat fly hovers on air that is heavy enough to sustain him without the beating of a wing. The lazy cat cannot even be bothered to think of the fly as prey. These are the days when even cats can come to the conclusion that we are all one small step away from becoming prey.
It was on just such a day – the most lost of all lost days – that David first spotted the woman who would become his prey. And his predator.