Magic and Loss

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I awoke, as usual, to the sound of the alarm clock, the smell of bacon, and the sight of a winged hairless cat curled up beside me. I yawned and stretched as I swung my feet out of bed, glancing at the darkness outside my window. Still yawning, I made my way to the shower. Fifteen minutes later, I returned to find the previously mentioned butt-naked bat-winged feline sprawled full-length across the bed like a bolster.

“You don’t waste any time, do you?” I chided the familiar as I put on my work clothes.

“You lose, I snooze,” Scratch replied, eyes still shut.

As I headed downstairs, the aroma of breakfast grew stronger. I entered the kitchen and saw Hexe, my landlord and lover—and, oh yeah, heir to the Kymeran throne—standing in front of the antique stove, dressed in nothing but a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and an apron that said KISS THE COOK. He was frantically shaking a couple of cast-iron skillets, while our Boston terrier, Beanie, sat planted at his feet, intently watching every move, just in case an errant molecule of food might find its way to the floor.

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