A desert dirt kind of floor, crenelated and shifty … with old wooden couches uncomfortable in antique ways.
The old tomcat eyed me warily. His name is Meowser, and he is a vocal type-A personality. “Meow”, he shouts at me, violently nodding his head toward the other room. Then shadow.
The dawn only brought more pain. The brightness, the twinges of hunger, the panicked skittering to and fro, like a Cherry Mouse that is animated and alive.