Eight Down

The mewing of cats welcomed Dawn as she slid into her flat. A fat orange tabby tried to squeeze past a white-pawed black cat so it could be the first to circle her ankles.

She tiptoed past the cats and set her bag on the counter. She wrenched the medicine cabinet open too hastily and a few bottles came spilling out. “Damn,” she muttered as she crammed them back in and popped open a prescription pill bottle. She shot back a pill dry and then stared at her reflection briefly before turning off the light.

Her next stop was the bedroom where she peeled off her wet clothes, opting now for a robe and some fuzzy slippers she knitted herself. She grabbed a glass of iced tea before settling down on her favorite couch with the latest Al Franken novel. Her three cats circled her adoringly before one hopped up on the couch.

“OW! Puddles, be careful!” she admonished a small grey kitten. She pushed up her sleeve. The newest slash on her arm was still sore from where she had cut it earlier that afternoon.

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