So Close and Then
The stray’s tail disappeared around the corner, a flash of orange against a field of grafitti. Nora tried to keep her footfalls light as she scampered after it. This pursuit had traversed several city blocks, through alleys, under porches, and during sunset. She wanted to catch this feral cat, presumably a boy, and bring him home with her.
A few times, Nora had gotten so close to the cat that she’d lunged for him. But the cat’s fur was greasy and he slipped out of her grasp. Her elbows were bloodied and she shivered in the increasingly cold air but she kept chasing the cat even though he didn’t even toss a glance at her.
She knew the cat did not want to be caught. It had paused to groom and Nora crept closer, silent all the time. Before the cat could dart away again, she caught him and held him tight. He bit and clawed. Blood dripped down her arms and the cuts sang. But he remained in her arms.
And someday, he would purr.
Note from the Ed.: You know those times when you already know before you pick up the phone? That something’s wrong? It happened last night, but my heart did not burst, but only leapt, flipped, and gasped. Everything is ok, but I fear that someday, it won’t be.
On a happier note, I made a lovely pie and my hands are not so pained today.
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