Crime Scene

The cat strolled nonchalantly past me looking quite pleased with herself. Of course, she’s a cat.  Cats always look pleased with themselves. I made my way to the coffeemaker and pushed the button. The blessed sound of coffee splashing into the pot was my reward.

The sun peeked in around the closed curtains. I worked my way around the room opening them, allowing the day to enter. It wasn’t until my return trip to the coffeemaker that I noticed it. That smear of blood on the floor. Too much for a bug, not enough for me. But clearly something died in here last night.

Then I remembered the cat.

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