hunch raze the woman notices me watching wavy outside the coach house. "are you waiting to feed our friend?" she asks. her smile is playful. inviting. "i'm trying to figure out what she's eating," i say. "whatever it is, she seems to like it an awful lot." "it's organic peanut butter on a piece of bread." "no wonder." "i know you're not supposed to feed them. but how can you resist a face like that? there haven't been as many of them around lately. she's like old faithful. and she's so gentle." "does she wave at you too?" "all the time." that stings a little. knowing i'm not as special as i thought i was. but i'm glad wavy has someone else looking out for her. the woman is surprised when i tell her some squirrels like fruit. "that's wonderful," she says. "i'll have to try that." wavy finds another piece of bread and climbs halfway up a tree to eat it in the shade. the woman tells us to enjoy the rest of our day. i watch her walk into a building i've only set foot in twice in my life. i get this feeling i can't shake. i swear she's the one who sent my dad a threatening email when he asked an innocent question about the decision-making process at cultural affairs, though i've never seen that person's face or heard her speak. when i get home, i punch her name into a search engine and see the same squirrel enthusiast i just met in the park. 230511 what's it to you? who go blather from