the ticking of the second hand on the clock is just enough off from the light timer that it caputres the ear in a twisted, monotone, symphony. it's dark oustide, as it should be since it's late. the table is cluttered with unfinished business making it the perfect height for tired feet... tired kitties, too. her large grey tabby lays quietly upon the clutter, waving its tail in a tried, elegant and very silent dance. smells like nothing in here. the kind of nothing smell each person has. my hands smell of your nothing, probably because i held your hand today. i tried explaining you to her. but she didn't listen, she's tired as usual. she props her feet up on the table, i ask if i can get her anything... she just inhails, exhails with "wash up for dinner"... i do as i am told. i watch her as she tips her head back and rests her eyes, just for a second. i admire her elegance. i see now that she's going through her own life in her own silent dance... reminds me of the cat's tail. tired and elegant. i'll let her rest now, and try again later, i'll leave myself to get lost in the symphony.