What the Cat Said (Short Story‪)‬

It was two in the morning when the cat spoke. It was raining again, great pale thunderclouds moving like ships through the sky. The bedroom flashed with white light. The children were eight and five years old, and earlier that evening they decided that they hated us. They had tried, for the first time, to run away. Now the cat was pacing the room. He was full of anguish. We were all trying to sleep. That was, in itself, a joke. No one slept very deeply, ever. Our boy was up the most.