Potluck Dumpsters

Feline statues watched inside the alley.

Winter was cold.

Stony faces did not move. Brief glances exchanged. Felines were telepathic.

The peddler watched. One feline blinked.

In sacrifice, the poor peddler took her mitten and tucked it around the feline’s paws.

Morning? Feline statues had moved in search of a potluck dumpster.

Surprise—a single grey mouse!

A meal wrapped in the mitten. A Leftover perhaps?

LaVa Payne lives in the Piney Woods of East Texas. When LaVa is not writing, she is exploring WPA structures and old sawmill towns. LaVa shares her cottage and garden with cats, bunnies, owls, opossums (they think they are cats!) and numerous birds including hummingbirds.

This entry was posted in Fiction and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s