It's Still Life

The Cat’s Bedtime Story

The Old Woman is tucked beneath quilts,
the moon is a sliver in her sleepy tea,
and the cat, perched on the duvet,
clears his throat.

“Once upon a time,” he begins,
“there was a… a mouse.
A very… small mouse.
With… fur.”

He pauses.
Blinks once.
Twice.

“And he… um.
He… walked…
across a… floor.
A wooden floor.
It was… oak.”

Another pause.
Longer this time.
His eyes grow heavy,
his voice a drowsy murmur.

“And then…
the mouse…
he…
zzzzzzzzzz…”

A soft, rumbling snore escapes him.
He has literally bored himself to sleep.

The Old Woman smiles,
pulls the quilt up to his whiskers,
and whispers:

“Best story I’ve ever heard.”