Chapter Four
Liza kicked off her heels and picked up the mail from the floor, where it slid when the mailman pushed it through the door slot. There was nothing important there, nothing from a publisher, and nothing from her agent.
She heard Wilson meowing. The cat was in the kitchen.
Liza watched Wilson stretch her agile body to twice its normal length, waking from the long nap that had begun that morning. She pawed at the counter.
Liza turned on the light, its harsh beams made everything look brighter than it was.
Wilson recoiled momentarily.
Pulling a can of cat food from the brown grocery bag filled with tiny little meal sized cans, she opened it with the electric can opener, noticing how the round blade was gunked with yuck. Needed cleaning. Little things about her apartment were
