紐約Barneys百貨公司秋季型錄 攝影師 Walter Pfeiffer
寫著：Fall 2010... We Are Feeling Haunted.
Walter Pfeiffer tells a glamorous ghost story.
Debrath Turberville conjures stylish spirits.
Apartments were harder to find than a good boyfriend. I was surprised when I stumbled upon such a cool pad. It was almost as if nobody wanted it.
It was in the middle of the afternoon. Maybe two or three days after moving in. That I first notice the cat.
I never questioned his presence.
I never even bothered to give him a name.
He liked to watch me primp. It was almost as if he wanted to approve my dress, to bless my tresses. I never told him that I loved him. I was worried that if I did, then he would leave me, like all the boys before him.
Then I began to notice.
Food bowls untouched.
Kitten-litter no smell.
I called my great-aunt Cecelia. She has a way with cats. Always has had.
I described my mysterious furry friend in detail. My great-aunt said that she needed to do a little psychic research before making a diagnosis. She would be in touch.
Two days later a letter arrived:
My dearest niece,
I am perplexed by your feline conundrum. I have no good advice. Other than to suggest that your try the following: On the next full moon take your cat to a cozy corner. Place him on your lap and tell him you love him.
Great Aunt Cecelia
Tell the cat I love him? Sounds easy enough. Dear Reader. But not for me I trembled at the thought.
"I love you!" I screamed! When I opened my eyes the cat had vanished.
For the next few days I walked and walked. I was torn between melancholy and exhaustion. I had fallen in love, and declared that love...and had lost that love. But I could not be angry. The object of my love was now free.
The cat was a phantom. The ghosted of a Love-Sick Spirit...trapped in limbo. I had set him free. But at what cost? I was alone again. That night I dreamt I was a mad cat lady. Bicycling around town trying to catch strays in my basket.
The next morning...Meow! Meow! Meow! Meow!
P.S. Be careful what you wish for.