The cat
Another sleepless night, a sad, endless river of guilty sad tears rolling down his pale tired cheeks every
night; he is drowning in a sea of grief and sorrow. Tirelessly, his chest
creaks every night letting his broken heart leak out in quest of his dead
beloved wife’s forgiveness. Her
spirit and shadow appear in every corner of his sorrowful flat.
She died two years ago
when they both had a deadly road accident; he was trying to tickle her left
cheek and ear when a deer out of the blue crashed into their car. He lost control
of the car wheel and everything was dark. Anna, his pregnant wife, died
instantly in a lake of her own blood. It was impossible to rescue either her or
the baby in her womb. Her husband, Steve, from then emerged in a prison of grief,
guilt, depression, and insanity. Alone in his flat, he cut off all
sorts of connections to the outside world. He tried his best to reconnect with his
family, friends, and ex-colleagues, but in vain; gradually he enclosed himself
inside his shell.
About a month ago, after a whole week of
tiring sleepless nights, he assertively decided to free his soul from torture
and hang himself; it was a rainy, gloomy morning. Everything was ready; the
rope, like a serpent, was around his sweaty neck and his tiptoes were
stretching straight to kick off that wooden sad stool under them. When the
three-legged chair was hesitantly swinging from right to left, a cat apparently
escaped the rain outside the building and found a way to reach Steve’s flat door and started
noisily scratching his door; she repeatedly and fearfully meowed as if she was being chased and
looking for someone to rescue her. Steve’s fragile, loving heart could not resist, and
he finally opened the door. Before even he could see what was there, the cat
hurriedly went in through the slightly opened door.
Months later, Steve was
seen by his neighbors doing shopping in a supermarket nearby. They saw in his
car a cat and three lovely kittens.
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