“Kimmy!” The terse voice broke past the headphones.
“Huh?,” I asked, removing the buds, “what’s up?”
My sister sighed, steadying her breath, “I’ve been calling your name for five minutes.”
“Yeah yeah,” she spat rolling her eyes, “where is Oscar?”
“No, the grouch. Yes my cat.”
“I don’t know, where did you leave him.”
“He’s not a book, he wont stay where I left him!”
“Well I don’t know, he is suppose to be in the basement if he’s not outside. Why don’t you check there.”
“Well I don’t know what you expect me to do, pull him out of a hat?”
“Whatever,” she huffed as she slammed the door.
As soon as the coast was clear the aforementioned orange puff jumped onto the bed. Absently I began to scratch his chin. I placed the ear buds back in and closed my eyes as I got back to my story. The comforting weight of the feline on my stomach combined with his rumbling purr soon lulled me into a catnap of my own.
This is my quick attempt at a metaphor (or would it be allegory?). In which the cat is my phone, the sister the person trying to call (I suppose) and me…well that’s just me. I never really know where my phone is. I always tell myself I’ll put it in it’s little holder when I’m at home but more often then not it gets left in my coat pocket…on vibrate. Ensuring I don’t get anything until I go to bed and remember to check it. It’s nice if I have it with me, but I’m not going to die without it. There are days where it just lives at home left under my pillow for that matter, not even making it the 2 minute walk to work.
Fun prompt, check out original post here.