Sprawled Italian

It was just one of those lazy days, when the heat sent everything into slow motion. The air shimmered off the cobblestones, sweat soaked through the shirts of everyone that passed by - every piece of shade was inhabited by someone or something wanting to escape the overly eager sun. It was the kind of heat that was miserable, but somehow managed to make you feel alive - so hot that every breathe woke you up. Rocked the core. Kept the body awake, even though the only thing the mind wanted was to curl up and fall asleep.

These were the kind of days that she really enjoyed. The kind of days she looked forward to. While everyone else was caught in the heat, moving at a fraction of their normal pace, she was able to get out and about, unbothered by the tourists who usually lined the streets, the bumping shoulders, loud noises, passing cars. Everything she wanted to do had gotten done - slipped out of the house, stopped for a quick drink, a bite to eat, visit some friends. Catch up. Breath a little bit.

The previous night had been tough. There had been a party at the house. All she had wanted to do was sleep - curl up on her bed and block out the word. Shut her eyes and have everything disappear. Her bones were tired, mind spent. But everything had just been so loud. The cackling of the dinner guests. Knives and forks scraping on the china plates - chairs squeaking across the wood floors. She tried to move, find some nook that was quieter than the last, but she couldn't. Just when she thought she had found somewhere to escape to, someone would walk over and bother her. Wake her up. Call out her name. Startle her. She hated when guests were over. If she wanted to be bothered, she'd be out and about, mingling with everyone. What was so hard to understand that if she wasn't around, she didn't want to be.

But today was different. It was good. It hadn't been stressful. Exactly what she needed. Now was the time she loved the most - when the sun was setting, almost lost below the terra cotta rooftops. The heat was bearable and the Sun's rays had diminished enough that they didn't burn her skin, but soaked in, radiating deep to the core, warming her body. It brought a smirk to her face - enough to curl the corners of her mouth.

***Pitter patter - little shoes running along cobblestone***

Perking up, she knew that sound. Please let it be her imagination. She didn't want the day to end this way. Everything had been so perfect up until this point.

***Giggling in the distance***

Before she could do anything, there it was - the neighbor's bambina, smile on her face, eyes gleaming. Only one thought obviously running through her head "gatto!"

With a hiss, she got up, shook out the tiredness in her limbs and bound off down the street, looking for an alleyway to dart down or window ledge she could hop onto.

Thus was the life of an Italian tabby.