“Don’t you open that door!” she’d say to anyone visiting her house.
Stench of cat urine almost overpowered the smoke that clung in cancerous clouds to the curtains, carpet, newspapers.
They found little left of her but glasses hanging amiss, unopened cat food in hand.
She must’ve opened the door.
Alexandra always remembers to feed her cat, who sleeps outside for good reason.
“I read she passed away. Your plump little neighbor with all the cats.”
“So sad. She tripped on the stairs and broke her neck, poor woman. She lay there, dead, for two weeks before they found her.”
“Poor lady. Poor cats. Alone. Trapped. Starving.”
“Oh, no. Her cats didn’t starve.”
Allen Lang, a recently resurrected member of the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America, was born the year the first Yo Yo factory opened.