"Kobe"

 "Kobe"

Today he was Kobe.  Kobe the Wolf.  As he was everyday.  That was his shadow.  He could not reveal it.  Not openly.  But Kobe he was: base and primal, wild Kobe.  Driven to find a mate.  Howling at the Moon.  Intrigued by the stars that he sought to bite and could not comprehend.  Kobe knew that these stars were the gods of wolves long before a single human mammal set foot on this earth.  He knew because he could remember, could think back to those times that were before time.  Kobe was beyond time, before it, after it, through it.  Time meant nothing to him.  He could remember when Germanic tribes sacked Rome and Christians burned ancient libraries.  He recalled Plato and mammoths and vast forests that covered continents and the time of the giant lizards.  His mind stretched back across eons when, even in the North, the sun was red in the sky and shone for endless days without nights. Now it was 1969 by Man's time and three men were hurtling towards Earth's Moon in a tin pot spacecraft from which they hoped to stage a landing.  This amused Kobe, for he had treaded on countless moons, waded in deep purple seas and padded through vast caves on the rocks of far-away galaxies before any man was thought of.

Michael looked back at his reflection in the glass of the coke machine and smiled.  Now he was Michael.  Michael the patient.  He was Michael everyday.  That was him, the real him.  Not Kobe.  He could be open about it, though it hurt.  Michael he was.  He could talk it through.  Michael who has so many enemies, people screaming to harm him, people who talk about him, protest his very existence, this little inadequate man called Michael.

Today she was Daphne.  Daphne, the tabby, who is friends with Percival, the British Longhair.  Daphne, as she was every day.  She could not talk about it.  Not openly.  But Daphne she was.  An empathic tabby who had never ventured beyond the walls of this institution, but had adventured in the minds of countless many across time and space in dimensions Man could not imagine.

Now she is Maggie.  Maggie she was and is.  This is how Michael knew her.  Michael admired her from afar but he was stuck in that mode because Maggie enjoyed other company, that of Percival.  Daphne liked Kobe.  He would take Daphne outside the hospital and they would venture through dark woods and forests where only Kobe knew the way.  Michael had asked Maggie if she was interested in dancing.  Did she like The Beatles?  Maggie didn't answer.  She was a staff member, a nurse, and unable to fraternise with Michael.  Michael knew that Kobe would have better luck with Daphne than he would have with Maggie.

Percival hated Michael and plotted to kill him, but offered him the deceitful balm of friendship.  Only Kobe could see the real Percival because for Kobe there was no friendship, only predators and prey, potential mates, and his own clan.