A High Magnetic Perch

A warm thermal draft from the kitchen stove lifted me gently out of the wire fruit basket. Upward I drifted... slow and steady, until my knotted tail brushed against the cold metal edge of the refrigerator door. I settled on the flat, dusty top surface, right against a ceramic chef magnet holding a grocery list. The paper fluttered once under my rounded cheek, then fell still. From up here, the entire kitchen spreads out in quiet order. I leaned my weight against a forgotten cardboard cereal box and rested, looking down at the shiny linoleum floor.