She's got inquisitive eyes, staring at me from the top of the steps, waiting for me to
Step out of the door.
The minute I do, she'll slip in, a wraith, a ghost. A soft and browngrey and fluffy ghost with bright bluegreen eyes that change color in the light.
She thinks she's fierce, going to battle with a magpie out on the lawn, fur and feathers turning into a blur as they circle.
Today, the magpie wins, flying triumphantly into a tree to brag while she scowls below. Just wait, magpie, she says, One day, I'll be victorious.