Missing Madam Z: Read Chapter 1
Memoir of Cate Morelli, in regards to the disappearance of Madam Z
When I woke up that morning, all I could think about was having a cup of coffee and a hot bath.
It was a bleak Tuesday in New York in November, a grey-washed day like any other. Or so I thought. I soaked in my chipped, remnant claw-foot tub, its hot steam swirling and co-mingling with the aura-cleansing smoke of the sandalwood incense burning nearby. I sipped my freshly brewed coffee and as my body relaxed, my thoughts turned to the day’s tasks ahead. The mental list that I created was short and succinct. Stop at the post office to pick up a package. Drop off some books at the library. Buy a new set of strings for my lute, and, most importantly, go to my regular appointment in the East Village with Madam Z, at 2PM.
I had started having sessions with Madam Z about six months earlier, and since then my life seemed to take on more dimension…more meaning…more…intrigue. What had just seemed like routine or random occurrences to me before, later took on a more abstract, almost luminous quality, as I sought to find meaning in even the most mundane events and encounters…