Cursed Cold
1.
A storm brews outside.
From my window, I watch the clouds swirl. They're angry and distressed but no rain comes. I press my thumb against the glass and tiny vibrations meet my skin. Soon, it will fall, and it will pour all night. My bones shudder.
A black shape crosses my lawn.
I find it's a cat weaving its way through the shivering grass. It's as black as the mouth of a cave and even from my height I see its eyes shining. It walks up to the porch, past the black roses, and sits on its haunches.
I go downstairs. The front door creaks slightly from the wind, and I open it. The cat sits on the center of the go away mat and looks up at me. Its eyes are the color of the sky after a monsoon.
That is the only look it gives me, and after that, it walks past me into the house.
From my window, I watch the clouds swirl. They're angry and distressed but no rain comes. I press my thumb against the glass and tiny vibrations meet my skin. Soon, it will fall, and it will pour all night. My bones shudder.
A black shape crosses my lawn.
I find it's a cat weaving its way through the shivering grass. It's as black as the mouth of a cave and even from my height I see its eyes shining. It walks up to the porch, past the black roses, and sits on its haunches.
I go downstairs. The front door creaks slightly from the wind, and I open it. The cat sits on the center of the go away mat and looks up at me. Its eyes are the color of the sky after a monsoon.
That is the only look it gives me, and after that, it walks past me into the house.