Sinister: When the cat whispers in your ear. . .

[PKHINTZ]

	There is one position I am found in most often--laying on my back, on my bed,
reading.  Inert, yet with a mind moving twice as fast as the body ever could.
I had left the _Dog on Wheels_ ep on repeat; the words on the page were
glanced under the eyes' sight, then passed over in pursuit of the next line,
the next paragraph.  Madeline the cat curled herself into the folds of the
blanket; she likes to be near me.  Listening to the ep I remembered listening
to those songs on a train to the sea, to Dover and its cliffs.  I had
concentrated on the music more intently that morning, to ignore the people in
the seats behind me.  The book was set down; I had lost myself again,
recalling looking out the train windows, at fields and spires, at the blur of
the journey itself.  Taking a cue from Madeline, I closed my eyes for a
minute.  An hour later, the music still playing, I woke to the telephone ring
and my mother saying "He did!".  Yes, I did--I had slept late and was not at
the train station to pick up my father.  As I tied my shoes and picked myself
off the bed and off my back, I noticed Madeline had left my bed.  Cats never
stay with you when the trouble comes.

			Living and loving
					Matthew
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.             Listen, this is pish, I think I'll leave
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