Feeding the Cats by Howie Good

I was beset by fake blondes and natural redheads, the former after breakfast, the latter before bed. There had been other incidents – a worrying decline in the bee population; a woman killed while feeding a neighbor’s cats. It was the month of silver hearses. Someone mentioned that emotional pain lasts only twelve minutes. I must have been vulnerable to suggestion. In what seemed like a sign of some kind, light drained from the sky, and the wind, its eyelids swollen, began counting.