Before The Coroner Was Called

I take my coffee out onto the front porch to watch the neighborhood go about its morning.

I don’t know my neighbors’ names, but I know their weekday routine.

The red Volvo full of kids, the bike commuter with the metal clips on his trouser-legs, the old woman across the street feeding the swarm of cats.

Except today she’s late.

The cats wind around the front door, waiting for her to open her screen and set out the paper plates.

I finish my coffee and go inside.

Throughout the day I peer through the front window.

The cats are still there, waiting.

Friday Fictioneers

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