I poured a bowl of kitty kibble outside my room upstairs. Throughout the night I woke to crunching, like popcorn at a movie, like rice tossed at a wedding. The pauses and sounds live in the space between waking and sleeping. Rain falls on the skylight, light trickles down the drainpipes, soaking the ferns, while the cats attack my feet under the blankets. How delicious to lie in bed under roof rain, and I can stay here all day if I want.
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