nighttime now and the storm has gained in force. the wind lashes the trees, sprays the falling water against the rattling windows. enough rain has pooled on the ground to make walkways impassable. it splashes in the puddles like popcorn jumping in oil. there is more and more lightning. when the power cuts out the black cat makes his move. he knows his nature. in the darkness he is invisible, a glimmer of black eyes and evil in the nothinglight of the four candles we've been able rustle up to illuminate this canteena. i am sitting on the sofa. silently the cat, paw in front of black paw, walks along the top of its narrow wood frame, moves in. he presses his cheek to my cheek. he touches his nose to my temple. i am spellbound. i hear his thoughts in mine. join me, he says. the sky flashes every few seconds. i force myself to move over to the window where i stand looking out. the ground, the water is black. the trees are black and they are blacker yet against the white bolts of lightning. the cat watches me. we both know a candle does not last forever. soon it will be total darkness.
