Alone with her cats Nora addresses them while she studies the telly. What rubbish! What trash! Those people! Tsk, tsk!

The cats attend Nora with equal dissatisfaction.

Before falling, Archangel Tveriel — Nora calls him Fluffermuffin — would have seared the fat from her bones. Now he thinks, there are worse hells.

3 Things About This Micro-fiction

1. Writing teaches me all sorts of things, ie. that cats are fallen angels damned to an eternity of human companionship.
2. Although I’ve always known that cats are evil, I never could understand why they don’t nip out our eyes while we sleep.
3. They’re under some sort of metaphysical containment!