Baby
by Bill Tope
At the nook in his kitchen,
Vincent held his cup out for the cat, who sniffed
and wrinkled her nose, recoiled with a little
hiss. "Coffee," murmured
Vincent. "Nectar of the gods, Baby!"
he told the cat. Baby merely sniffed. Vincent
tipped his cup and drank deeply, Next he
realized that was his thirteenth cup tonight; and
thirteen was an unlucky number! Or was it?
Suddenly he lost purchase on the cup, which
plummeted, striking his bare foot.
He gasped, then slipped in
the puddle of spilled coffee, tumbled to the
floor, which shook the walls. Tail swishing,
Baby meowed her approval.
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