“Michael?” Ana stirred. “Are you up?”
“Yeah,” he said, quietly. “Can’t sleep.”
“Why not?” she asked, rolling over to lay an arm across his chest.
“I’m worried about the cat,” he answered.
“Don’t be,” she said, quieter. “She’ll take care of everything.”
He let her words resonate within him for a while, but continued to stare. He tried to relax, to think about something else…
“Michael?” she asked, beginning to wake. “Are you clenching your fists?”
“What’s wrong?” she asked, now awake. Disturbed. He decided to test the water.
“The cat, it stared at me.” He waited.
“Almost the whole time you were trying to take care of it, it just…locked eyes with me.” His fists were still tight.
“Well,” she said, yawning, voice softening again, “animals communicate through behavior, energy.” She stretched, then settled onto her back. “She was probably just scared.”
They lay quiet. Long enough for him to hear her breathing blend with a car driving by on the street below.
“I felt like it wanted me to kill it,” he finally said, as coolly as possible.
His fists released.
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Copyright 2015 by Scott Frazelle