The mantle of white that has covered us has turned into a pall.
Early one morning I awoke at four o'clock, peered out my window, and saw... nothing.
A total white-out, with the wind gusting and complaining louder than the feral cats ever could.
The street lights were barely visible, like little disembodied orbs floating behind a shroud of cotton.
I have not heard the cats since then.
This was written by Katzenperson in