13 Oct

I came in the front door and, looking up along the hall, I could see the cat digging away at the living room rug. I shouted at it to stop and it stopped. I stood in the doorway for a time. The cat watched me. It was sitting on its butt, its front legs straight down in front of it, like supporting beams. The sunlight coming in through the living room windows pooled around it. There were shadows from the footstool that the cat used to stand at the window, from the cat itself, and from the plant that had been sitting temporarily in the living room for the past four years. I put my briefcase down and stood for a while, trying to think what to do.

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