The Melancholy Korean

Melancholy was insistent we have lunch in the Città Vecchia, which I assumed meant the old part of the city. It's always a good bet with these European cities, isn't it? What I mean is... oh, never mind. It's a banal observation. I must remember to check myself in front of company. What would my grandmother say? I fear I may have already tried your patience with my circumlocutious manner of telling this story. I can only ask for your forbearance, dear guests, sweet and patient and loving guests. My mind has a tendency to wander.

Yes, alas, back to the story. Melancholy's knowledge of Trieste astonished me. He even had the exact name of the cafe, Pirona something, and he must have known exactly where it was. I could barely keep up with him, he was walking so forcefully through the streets. He didn't pause to double-check street names or even to consult a map. The cat had silenced Melancholy, so he wasn't saying much now, just taking long strides that cut across the pavement.

About the cat. You must know, in case you ever see him, that Melancholy hates cats. He absolutely detests them. If he ever had the power of God, he told me once, he would exterminate all the cats in the world, cleanse the Earth of them. (This was a time when Melancholy was drinking heavily, and he was prone to... well, I shouldn't really say. Strong outbursts, if you understand what I mean. He was never violent, exactly, except... well, now I really shouldn't say. I don't wish to hold anything back from you, of course, you are our guests and that would be rude of me, but you must understand my position. Discretion is the better part of valor and all that. Let me just say it was a difficult period for all of us, a period I know  Melancholy deeply regrets. I can't say I blame Sybil, of course. What that poor girl had to put up with. I mean, Melancholy had become totally outrageous. But now you see what is happening? My mind is wandering again. These are stories for another time, yes?)

We both wanted to take a closer look at the Adriatic Sea, no, no, not the Adriatic, the Gulf of Trieste, I mean, and we were walking near the ferry terminal on the main pier, when suddenly, from behind one of the garbage cans, a cat jumped out in front of us. I nearly died. I'm not ashamed to admit that. I've never understood why people are so embarrassed to admit fear. I was shaking in my boots, as they say. But this cat. I'd never seen anything like it. It immediately began hissing at Melancholy! Absolutely an absurd sight. But true.  I swear on the memory of my grandmother. It was a horrid screeching sound. And Melancholy? Well, he hated cats, remember, he wasn't afraid of them. I could see his hand tighten around the Herald Tribune he had just bought, and I swear, I thought I heard him hissing back.

That's ridiculous, of course. But sometimes, I wonder.