The day started early enough, it was before six in the morning. Downstairs, the cat is demanding food. Feed the cat. The cat wants to leave the flat. Open the door to the stairwell, tail erriect she wanders off downstairs.
The saucers have been placed elsewhere in the cupboard. It is a minor annoyance. Find them, replace them in the usual place, swallow the anger and feel it festering just below the heart.
Go upstairs again, breakfast, a small sense of order. Open the window, look out. There is the cat in the neighbours garden. Call her, she looks up. How did the animal get there? All that cat proofing seems for naught. Go downstairs and open one of the windows in the never-used rooms. The cat jumps through those vines planted by the neighbours. She seems to be happy to be back inside, it is almost as if the small animal has forgotten the route back home.
Take her inside, then she disappears again.
Today will be the day to have a small journey to Vilshofen, a small town on the Danube east of here. Things are packed as far as is possible, and the anger is steadily increasing in the space below the heart.
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