This morning I sat in my usual spot by the rear window eating breakfast with my cat. She looked up into the cerulean sky, eyes on something I couldn’t see. A bird? A squirrel hidden on the roof? She reached up with both paws, like a little child looking toward the sky and thinking, I want to be up there! She slid down the window and I felt her defeat. She could not soar after bird or chase after squirrel. I could not soar over Orion or ricochet off Mars.
Suddenly, a tiny fly alighted on the inside of the glass. With one fatal swat, it was gone. Oh. Her target was on the inside.