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The Smoking Cat

The smoking cat

took a puff

and considered many things.

from villanelles to Roman wells and broken mattress springs.

The smoking cat

refilled his pipe

and walked to Coffee Town

to have a macchiato with two shots, made upside down.

The barista frowned

and told the cat

"That pipe is bad for you".

So the cat discarded it and bought tobacco made to chew.

The well-fed man stood near the top of the staircase, his somewhat gourd-shaped face looking smug, white, and vaguely threatening. He descended the stairs with surprising ease, considering his corpulence and age, which must have been fairly advanced considering his balding head and untamed, whitened eyebrows. But his skin was unblemished, the well-maintained, polished skin of a member of the well-heeled classes. 

He moved toward Devin with a commanding gaze in his dark, shadowed eyes and with uncanny smoothness. Devin vaguely realized the reason he moved so well was that he wasn’t stepping down the old, wooden staircase in a normal fashion, but gliding. Gliding with the confidence and steady pace of a figure sailing majestically on a tranquil river.

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