He sat in silence, tail twitching, ears turned towards his target.
Pulling my legs up onto the couch (theoretically a place safe from whatever it was that he was hunting), I peeked over the edge, trying to spy what he stalked. I saw nothing, and for some reason an icy chill crawled up my spine. Was it a harmless bug? Was it–*gasp*–a spider? I didn’t know if I could handle a spider on my own. Eight-legged demons, they are.
Without warning he pounced, and I felt myself jump despite my determination to remain calm. Did he get it?
No, it seemed he didn’t. When he stood back to observe his handiwork, there was nothing on the floor. I relaxed for a moment until his body went rigid again…save for that twitching tail.
Dare I get off the couch to see what it was? If I put my feet down, would The Thing Beneath bite me? I swallowed back a lump of fear and ever-so-slowly began to get up, keeping the cat between me and whatever it was he was determined to murder. Inch by inch, I got down on my knees and bent over, looking under the couch, praying it was a ball of lint or long-lost cat toy.
Nothing. There was nothing.
The cat still stalked this nothing for several minutes before following me into the other room, the nothing-that-he-thought-was-something apparently forgotten.
Shaking my head, I chuckled to myself as I turned out the lights and snuggled next to my sleeping husband. It was just my imagination, I thought, or perhaps the cat’s. Nothing more.
Then I heard a door open and close.
We have no roommates.