The summer is bright and dry. In the small town of Oberlin, the huge golden fields of wheat stretch on for miles into the sunset. Stray cats hide under abandoned, dusty cars that lie sometimes half buried in the dirt in vain attempts to escape the scorching heat.
There is a girl dressed in an oversized white t-shirt and black shorts. She sits in a dilapidated playground with her dusty shoes scoring small lines into the earth as the swing she rides moves slowly back and fourth. Her hands are loose on the rusty chains. Her brown eyes sit unfixed at some point in the distance.
The town is silent, so much that you could hear dry leaves scrape across one of the very few roads blacktops, propelled by any scarce breezes that may decide to grace its inhabitants with a rare and blissful cool.
A sound breaks through the quiet. It is the bright and curious mewl of a young stray feline. The small black animal and the girl on the swing make eye contact from across the road. She stays completely still. The animal trots toward her. It circles lovingly around her calves, and then gaily hops up into her empty lap.
Amelia looks down at the cat, curled up so trustingly and kind on her thighs. A car passes quickly by, the first one she had seen all evening. It rolls off into the distance, most likely passing in briefly, then out of her town forever. No one ever stayed long. In juxtaposition those who did, never seemed to leave.
She had been born there, or so she had been told. Her mother was not very open to speaking of… well, anything.
Amelia watched the car disappear behind a small hill in the road, miles ahead. She wished she had caught its license plates, just to know where it had come from. But she had not looked.
The cat stirred in her lap, pushing its head against her arm to inquire needily for attention.
Amelia felt its soft fur, delicate bones and warmth against her skin. Her hand fell from the rough old chain to stroke its back.
Once, twice, her fingers ran over the bones in the cats spine. Its heartbeat thrummed on strongly, matching calm pace with her own.
She picked the cat up, held It against her chest, and crushed its ribcage against her own. The animal let out a short, distressed cry that sounded to her like a newborn baby crying in horror at the revelation of being ripped from its small, warm womb and forced into the cold open air and judgmental eyes of the world.
She jerked her arms back again, feeling another splintering crack against her stomach and sighed softly. The kitten made no more noise.
She stood, and the small corpse slid off her lap and into the dust.
Brushing off her shirt, she looked up into the empty orange sky.
No clouds.
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