|The clock ticks, the sound cuts over the whir of the fan from the heater. A car whooshes by outside, a gust of wind following it, shaking dead leaves from the trees.
Now, a plane. Small.
Across the street, a porch light casts a dull glow, a minuscule flare bouncing on the wooden blinds as they sway. A carpet snake covers the gap underneath the door, but a light breeze still creeps through, rocking the bamboo curtains. They rattle.
Another plane. Bigger.
Upstairs, two cats snuggle against each other. Eyes closed. Warm without a heater.
Their life is the simplest.