For then, that day really, she sat by her phone and thought of the rat, Whiskers, back home. The sedentary creature was likely napping, lying in a lap and basking in the fake warmth that came with revealing the formerly unspeakable. That was the kind of rat Whiskers was, full of little secrets told in smoky rooms, later sprinkled with hot, unattractive lies. Whiskers was the quick-witted, long tailed, fattened rat whose ears perked at your loneliness and whose teeth gnawed away your insecurities. Little do you know, that there’s so little we know. Damn moles. There was a 7 hour time difference, from one coast to the other, each wave crashed heavily on either of the beaches, like a symphony of bass instruments,…