Early morning rituals
The cat crept into bed shortly before daybreak.
"And where have you been?"
Something like a purr rose up from under the duvet.
"Have it your way."
The cat wriggled itself into a ball of cold, not quite wet fur, which came to a rest against his left thigh.
"Bloody cats."
He woke up again when the alarm went off. He got out of bed, trying not to squash the cat in the process. But Wookie died two weeks ago. He'd taken his sixteen-year-old friend to the vet himself. What the...? No. Whatever it had been, it was gone now. He threw the bed linen in the washing machine, took a long, hot shower and went to the kitchen, where the coffee was waiting for him. He loved his new coffee maker. He stared for a long moment at Wookie's empty food bowl. It really was time to throw it out. Damned cat. It could have been worse though, he thought, chewing on a stale bagel. Last week it had been his long dead wife.