“Kitty, Divina, why are you sad? What is your secret?”

Inverted half moons looked up with a hint of disgust: “get lost” she said.

In her head, clouds were passing by, quickly as if moved by a tornado, but only to uncover more clouds, grey pushing grey, black pushing dotted black; no blue or yellow to be seen.

She was trying to unveil what was all the head chaos about, when that human jerk interfered thinking he had the solution.

Her skull arteries were hammering her brain as hard as one would trying to squeeze oil out of a tiny sesame seed.

Yet the brain was seeping with all kinds of soot water instead.

She just couldn’t conceive the fact that her twins had left; moved away with no notice and no mention of their whereabouts.

It started when they started finishing the meals separately, not waiting for her and not even for each other.

Then they stopped leaving her any leftovers, and finally they left all the meal as leftover, along with her.

They left everything over, and disappeared, with no note whether they would be together or they were over her, or even over each other.

One belly carried all, true in separate sacs, but still together.

The sacs, she ate, thinking then, that by doing so she would never see them leave, and separately leave, not thinking at her young age then that “That”, would definitely happen, despite her, leaving her with only a teary haze in the eyes, and a tinge of Kohl.

She is left with black halos on her lids and a tearless desert in-between.

She was planning to leave too, to the desert, not telling those dumb humans about it.

She decided to take revenge out on them; humans, she cannot on her kids. Furthermore, she did not want to be traced.

Trackless, odorless, spotless, invisible.

She would shed her fur and wear an earthy brown cloak, to blend in with the desert. She did not want to be found. She’d harbor snakes and scorpions in her hair follicles if need be. She’d be transparent to water; water would seep right through her body, not stopping at any crevice or claw, into the rocks underneath.

She would mate with the scorching yellow rays, fall in love with the dying orange disc of Ra, and wait to be blinded.

She’d fold in, writhe and conform to the dunes, wait to be blown away, ever so gently, layer by layer, until she had become a single granule of sand. May be she, one moment, would land in somedody’s awaiting eye, glaring eye, sad eye, such as the eye of a lonely mare.

She didn’t want to disintegrate into carbon because she hated to be incorporate into anything, not even a diamond.

She’d rather keep her identity as a grain of sand which once was a cat, full with three souls. Each soul had decided to leave, on its own, and be what it wanted to be, her core elected to be a grain of soil.

The hammering stopped.