Transients

Heavy Feather Review/August 17. 2023

I tossed garbage bags full of last items into my Honda. Wire hangers, rolls of wrapping paper, a comforter. The orange tabby cat appeared, jumped into the back.

“Damn you!” I shouted. The cat arched and skittered to the ground, running behind the (no longer) rented bungalow. I expedited to the driver’s seat, my foot hovering above the gas pedal. The cat’s green-eyed stare taunted. She stood stock still awaiting my next move. I gripped the steering wheel as the car revved and exited the driveway. From the rearview mirror I saw the cat holding its stance, then shooting into the shrubs. I turned out of my former street with a racing heart.

I regretted not killing the cat, then regretted feeling that way. Typical.