Long streams of evening light pour through the windows, creating even longer shadows to divide up the dust motes. Outlines of the furniture are clear, but also hazy – and so you follow the dancing dust to the carpeted floor. Maybe it’s time for a na– two little glowing eyes look up at you, unblinking.
Upright
Laying squarely in a shaft of sunlight, he stays there. Unmoving. Ever-confident there’s no need to change exactly what the situation is. Though, as you stare back into his open eyes, you’re sure he would do exactly what he wanted to change the situation, anyway. His sharp claws are sheathed, and you know what a cat’s mouth looks like. But there he lays and, even as you keep watching, his legs stretch out and his whiskers slide forward to prepare for a wide, sharp yawn full of teeth you’re sure he knows how to use.
Reversed
Why doesn’t he move? You’ve been watching each other so long, the shaft of sunlight has begun to shift. It might be because he’s been staring at you all this time. Why would he do that? Then again, why would you? What time is it, anyway? You’re both wasting time, whatever the time really is. Your stomach starts to growl, so you turn away toward the kitchen, your eyes staying with his as long as you can before breaking contact is absolutely necessary. Your first step meets a furry wall and the cat yowls. You take another step, and he circles your leg and then looks pointedly at the kitchen. So much for pondering what thoughts were behind those eyes.
All illustrations and text copyrighted from The Liminal Deck.
Prints, deck, and physical media guidebooks available on Whiskey Terra Foxtrot
Back to {The Liminal Guide}
