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 Weathered
Cats in the Window

Joseph Jude

    He stepped lightly, trying to remain quiet, but look as commonplace as he could.
    He was a little man, balding, small rimmed glasses that looked more like goggles. He wore a black suit and a thick black wool coat. No one would suspect him as long as he didn’t draw attention to himself. He kept a safe distance behind her, but was steadily closing in. He had a whole block to go and was confident that he would be caught up to her by the time she reached the corner. His van was already parked there, unlocked. All he would have to do is slap the handkerchief over her face and pull her in.
    He didn’t like walking down this particular street. It was too well lit. Normal neighborhood homes lined up both sides. It was late. A little after one A.M. but someone could still be awake in one of the houses. In the split second he would make his move, he could be spotted. No matter. He had to take the risk. He had watched the lovely twenty year old girl with soft chestnut hair walk home from her job every night, and concluded that this was the best place to strike. The only place he could casually walk up to her and grab her without her, or anyone else, seeing him. He had thought about waiting in his van, but figured that that would look far more suspicious to anyone who happened to pass by. He also considered approaching her head on from another street, but she might see him coming and be ready for the grab. This was the best way. She wouldn’t see him until it was done. If she or anyone else did notice him beforehand, he would just be a simple small man walking home.
    He was getting closer to her. He looked back and forth to the houses to see if anyone was looking out their windows.
    Something was.
    He spotted it. A small black cat, sitting straight up in one of the windows. Eyes wide, it was staring right at him, silently watching him walk. There was no movement in it at all except the gradual turning of its head to keep him in its sights. It unnerved him. There was no sense of playful curiosity or affectionate warmth in the way it stared into him. It was like the cat knew what he was up to and was watching him.
    He couldn’t look at it anymore, he turned away.
    Then he saw another cat, in another window. It was a grey tabby with black stripes, and it too was staring at him with those wide glassy eyes. Eyes that had the sort of emptiness one gets when they’re blinded by anger. There’s nothing going on in the eyes because there’s too much going on in the mind.
    He looked away again. He turned to other houses, but there too, he saw more cats in the windows, all breeds and colors. Siamese, Longhairs, Shorthairs, Bobtails, Persians. The one unifying feature was that they were all staring at him with that look of knowledge and hate. He looked around at all the houses and he could swear that although he didn’t notice it a mere minute ago, all the houses now had cats in the windows, all staring at him, watching his disgusting evil, all ready to rat him out or take their revenge in their own way when the time was right.
    He started to sweat despite the cold weather. He felt sick in his stomach. He was closer to the girl than he had ever been, but it only made him more nervous. They could see him. Both he and the girl were almost at the end of the block. He could easily make his move now if he really wanted to. Instead, he could barely summon the strength to move his legs at all. He couldn’t even look at the girl in front of him.
    She continued across the street to the next block while he turned the corner. He climbed into his van and drove it away, never to return.



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