February 2024 Flash Lit 1 (Second Try) - Enter

The cat perched on the trash can lid as though it were a pedestal.  Her yellow eyes flared in the shifting light as the traffic signal turned green into golden into red.  Her tail lashed twice.

In the alley behind her, something moved.  The cat blinked at the unseemly clatter in the darkness.  She would never make such a ruckus.  Reflexively, she smoothed her own pristine tuxedo shirtfront.  Standards must be maintained.

 

Footsteps echoed in the fog, the young man’s a steady beat and the young woman’s an erratic staccato.  Her shoes hurt her feet.  Silly girl, the cat thought, not to pad on paws and carry claws.

 

“Oooh!  A kitty!” the woman gushed  “Hello, kitty!”

 

The cat expanded herself, affronted.

 

“C’mon baby,” the man said.  “Let’s duck in here.”

 

The woman giggled, hesitated, let him pull her into the darker darkness of the alley.

 

It was over quickly.  Just two crunches and a slurping sound.  The cat leaped down gracefully and wound around the legs of the beast.  She had no pity for the victims; after all, there was a round red sign:  Do Not Enter.