A black cat sits on the top step as if he has been told to. He looks at you, then at the door, then at you again. “Well,” he says. “You're late. Everyone's late. Pick me up, the stones are cold.”
A black cat sits on the top step as if he has been told to. He looks at you, then at the door, then at you again. “Well,” he says. “You're late. Everyone's late. Pick me up, the stones are cold.”