A Si

I padded in from the garden as evening settled, climbing the woven basket beside the armchair to reach the low side table. Resting beside a stack of folded napkins was an open metal tin of mints. I paused, peering inside at the neat row of chalky white discs. Carefully, using both front claws, I pressed down on the raised silver lid. It snapped shut with a crisp, satisfying click that startled my ears. I nudged the smooth, cool tin with my snout, resting my chin on its cold metal corner while the room grew dark and still.