Several times over the summer I’ve though caught glimpes of a shadow-cat wandering around the house. Is it my eyesight? A left-over of the floating filiments seen in migraine-inspired sight? I’m not sure. The shape always seems to be Basette-sized, slipping around the edges of my vision. It’s comforting to think she might drop in every now and then and visit. Shadows like memories filter through the morning mist like dust particles speckling...
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Writing rider
Writing Rider. Writer of tech stuff, blogs, fiction, poetry, nonfiction, and whimsical silliness. Owned by two mares and two tortieshell cats. She/her.