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Cat Nap by Kristine Kathryn Rusch She sleeps in the sun, oblivious to all she has wrought. Her white fur glistens in the light, a stark contrast to the rich wood floor beneath her. Occasionally the breeze blowing in through the open window catches her. She raises her small triangular-shaped head, ears up, and sniffs, delicately, as if the air had a bouquet, like wine, that she could accept or reject. Then she puts her head down, sighs heavily, and falls back to sleep. Her body twitches -- dreams, I know --but their content remains a mystery. Does she have nightmares about those days she spent roadside, waiting for someone to find her? Does she run from unseen predators? Cower from yelling voices? Or are her dreams happy places, filled with hummingbirds and flowers and all the food she can eat? I do not know and I do not want to know. I like to pretend she is happy here, even in sleep, untormented by memories |
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