A Visitor in the Kitchen – Linda Yechiel
The morning rays of the sun tiptoed through the window, casting squares of lemon light on the glossy yellow cabinets. The kitchen lay quiet, deserted in its chaos, waiting for a new day to help it cast off its cloak of piled dishes and discarded wrappers.
He crept in stealthily on padded feet. He was ravaged with hunger, but despite his desperation took care not to disturb any cutlery or foil containers scattered on the black and white tile counter. He peered carefully and expectantly. Even at this time of day, he knew, there would be something to assuage his rumbling stomach. His nose twitched at the half-eaten shepherd’s pie, its congealing sauce reflecting flashes of sunlight. He wolfed it down, eyeing the calico cat sleeping under the oilcloth-covered table, her whiskers quivering as she dreamed.
Some slices of toast caught his eye and he moved on to them. With delicate fingers he nibbled at them, daintily brushing some stray morsels from his chin.
As he reached forward for another piece, he saw that the calico cat was following his every move, her tail twitching in anticipation. So, with a flick of his tail, he scampered into his hole.
