Sad Cat Fire -5minutefreewrite(x3)

For https://steemit.com/freewrite/@mariannewest/the-weekend-freewrite-4-11-2019-part-3-the-dramatic-twist

I am walking to the station to catch a train that will take me home.

I am jogging because I think I'll be late otherwise. I am sprinting because I hear it arriving at the station. I am standing still because I missed the train. I am walking because it's a nice night to walk home. I am jogging because it's colder out than I thought. I am sprinting because it makes me feel alive. I am standing still because I am out of breath. I am walking because I just want to get home. I am jogging because I feel a little scared. I am sprinting because I feel very scared. I am standing still because I am feeling very, very scared. I am walking because it's all in my imagination. I am jogging because I have a very active imagination. I am sprinting because I see a taxi. I am standing still because I am haggling with the taxi. I am walking because I don't have enough cash to get the taxi to take me home. I am jogging because I am close to home. I am sprinting because my home is on fire. I am standing still because I cannot help the firemen. I am walking because I have nowhere to sleep. I am jogging because I am sad. I am sprinting because I am sad. I am standing still because I am sad. I am walking because I am sad.

The rain washes over me like a cold shower would in the apartment I no longer live in. I hope my cat is ok. I go back home and begin to search for him. He has a very loud meow, so I expect I will hear him if he's out here. I don't hear my cat. But maybe he is sleeping. Maybe he found another home to sleep in while everything burned, and I will find him tomorrow when he comes to find me.

"I think they've gone," Marie said, her head turned, her breath hot on my ear.
Marie had seen a dozen cats around my cat. It didn't feel right that I thought of her breath, hot on my ear, with lust. My cat was lying, breathing labored, on its side.

"Your breath is like a joke, poorly told," I said.
Marie didn't say anything about that. I had lived in an apartment across from Marie for 20 years. She thought I was a crazy cat lady, probably. I was probably a crazy cat lady. What 18 year old lives in the same apartment when she's 38? Only someone so dedicated to cat after cat after cat that she doesn't want to disrupt their lives to move. Now I have to move. I wondered where Marie was going to move, so I asked her.
"Where are you going to move?" my cat wasn't moving, though, and I didn't want to think about that. The cat's labored breathing had ceased, and I knew she was dead. There had just been too much. I knew the fire had probably killed her, but I hadn't been ready for the fire to not quite kill her, and for me to find her with the attractive neighbor moments before she died. That wasn't something I thought I should have been able to prepare for, and so I forgave myself for responding weirdly.

So weirdly.

The red mark on his face told me that he'd been in a fight with another cat after the fire. It wasn't covered in soot like the rest of him. It was fresh, as if one of his rivals had decided to take advantage of his weakness after the fire. Maybe that was true. He hadn't been an outdoor cat, I thought, but who knows if, in the summer months when I left the window open, he hadn't climbed down the fire escape and roamed, caterwauling and causing mayhem, making sure to return well before dawn so I would never know about his secret life as a cat about town.

Marie didn't respond to my oddness with cruelty. Of course she didn't. I wouldn't like someone who would do something like that. She didn't respond with love, either, though. She simply said, "I'm sorry. I think your cat died."
"I think so, too." I looked her in the eyes for the first time since this had begun. She had watery eyes. I think she was crying, which was odd, because I wasn't crying. She went to my cat, and she picked up his limp body. He hadn't been dead for very long, so rigor mortis hadn't even a teensy hold on him. He flopped a bit. He looked heavier than I remember him being. I still stood on the sidewalk.

Photo by @stinawog