Of Two Minds

by Kim Triedman

MOST days I’d kill to be

There's something so
appealing about it: the
cereal boxes, alphabetized, the
antibacterial soap; that
broken TV not
in the middle of the
front hall. Mornings I wake up

longing for a
list to make, or even
check; upholsterers to call with
urgent deadlines. There must be
comfort in it, surely —
knives sharp; dishwashers
humming; all those
troubling thoughts not being
had. Just think of the

bills it would pay — on time!
stamped and posted! – just think of the
meals. But

                    then, on a good day, I
remember the time that the
cat made a nest of
my favorite sweater, and I
left it all that winter on the
floor beside my bed.
Every night I’d
listen with the lights out for the
ticking of her claws, and then the
idling of her motor as she
circled into place. It always
made me smile:
knowing that her
paws were making biscuits,
tearing at the

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