![]() ![]() I had a furry heating pad on my belly, I had a crick in my neck, and I had-apparently-a midnight visitor. There had been a time when I’d thought I would never see home again. ![]() ![]() From where I lay I could just make out the motion of the draperies in the warm July breeze in the front room of the flat above Cloak and Dagger Books. Moonlight outlined the pirate bookends on the bookshelf. It was dark and it took me a second or two to place myself. The scratching worked itself into my dream and I deduced with the vague logic of the unconscious that the cat was sharpening his claws again on the antique half moon table in the hall.Įxcept…that boneless ball of heat on my abdomen was the cat. Somewhere in the distance of a very weird dream about me and a certain ex-LAPD police lieutenant came a faint but persistent scratching. Or, to be precise, on the living room sofa where I was uncomfortably dozing. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |