It was sometime after dark that they woke and left for the day, and I find Friday Mornings to be the most quiet around here after that. Like a peacefulness is about to arrive.
Outside, it looks as though rain is here, or at least the clouds are sad about something. The clock over the fireplace ticks away, and the coffee machine--which gurgled and trickled earlier--has fallen silent.
Black and I stand at the window at times like these and like to simply watch, even though we aren't expecting to see anything. A cardinal flitting by here, a squirrel poking around there. Of course, seeing nothing is fine, too.
And then sometimes I catch Black standing there with her eyes shut, her purrs betraying dreams, and then she'll stir, open her yellow eyes, and know I was always there, and it comforts me that she can then go back to sleep a blink later without worry, as though she were a stone nestled deep in a garden.
-Gray
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