The cat flows across your yard like a Japanese brush painting, a single meandering line from fence to fence, grey footprints in white snow, grey splotches on white fur, grey and white blending into the shadows in the corner of the yard where the monsters live, the ones who come when the sun sets the yard goes dark the cat disappears and you can’t hold your eyes open anymore can’t fight them off when they come for you can’t scream when they hold you down and you wish you were a cat, escaping, from grey and white into full colour.