Fragments
“Silence filled in behind her, flooding the rooms with despair. The air in her bedroom, thick with deodorant, hairspray, floral shower gel and perfume, settled into scented layers around the debris of her work clothes. The cat, nonchalant about her absence now it had been fed, climbed onto the front room window sill, looking out on its domain of kebab shops and off licences. Endless traffic piled the corners, hooting and groaning as it snuffed along, pouring stink into the already sickly late af...ternoon air. It felt more like the middle of September, than that of April. The cat preferred the view over the back windows, endless roofs, tantalising birds and other cats to snarl at. It would wait until the acrid chemical smells in the other room faded, before proceeding to settle in its usual spot, angled out to the inner square of the backs of the houses. It would mewl and scratch fruitlessly on the glass at the outside wild life: desperate to be free to attack, to chase. Or so it thought. Once, a pigeon had settled on an open window sill in the summer’s heat, and the poor cat, comfortable and safe in its window glass world, had hissed in fright.MoreLess
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