she'd been good for weeks, months. no going out, no .....
and yet, there she sat silently smoking her one cigarette of the night. 11 pm. and a little weed.
pondering the universe, pondering the house and the loud aspects it carried until lights out. cat most vocal, rosie hears butterfly wings. daisy her own siren.
and then she heard it. a small noise yet undeniably close. she remembered the raccoon nest under the house by the kitchen window. right next to the porch. where she was sitting silently smoking her cigarette. and a little weed.
mind races.. calms self. smoke smoke smoke.
Time to get up and go inside. Creaky knees , struggling to stand with this frame that needs some serious oil. or youth. and Then . the hissing. The scrilling warble... and a growl. The raccoon was upon her before she could move...
