A cat blames the man for the death of his mistress. |
Chad put the finishing touches on his sign; Free cat to good home. All it needed was to be tacked to a telephone pole. He looked up. The cat was glaring at him again, making his skin itch. Its eyes were yellow, hateful, and the tip of its thick gray tail twitched back and forth on the beige carpet. Tick, tock. Murderer, those angry eyes said. Chad wiped nervous sweat from his upper lip. “Any time now, that phone’s gonna ring. Any time.” Loser. “Shut up.” You murdered her. The cat licked its fuzzy gray lips slowly, savoring the taste of words it could not say aloud. Chad threw an empty pill bottle at it, but it did not move, just sat there silently blaming him for his owners death. Chad felt like if he could just explain, the cat would stop accusing him of killing Cindy. “I didn’t kill her, all right?” He was ashamed of the shrill note that crept into his voice. “I didn’t kill her, she just took the wrong pills. It wasn’t my fault, she was tired, and she took too many of the wrong thing, okay?” Whatever, Killer. The cat’s tail continued to twitch on the carpet, until Chad thought he would go crazy. It reminded him of the way Cindy had been twitching when he’d found her. Sweat broke out over his whole body. “Maybe I should kill you. What do you think of that?” Just try. I’ll tell, you know I will. Chad ran a hand through his hair. God, he knew it. The cat would tell. He had to get rid of it, and soon. He picked up the marker and amended the sign. Free cat to good home. Moving. Must go quickly. |