of china, cats, and cookies

The scenes with him were these chilling nerve wracking moments of waiting. Followed by a complete twist of expectation.

For example, one day she came home to see a tin of cookies sitting precariously on the magazines she had gathered over the months. The cookie tin was red. The lid was silver. They didn’t quite match.

She put down her new purse, a yellow purse made from PVC and picked up the tin. The lid was tight and she tugged at it but one corner would not move. She could open it just enough to see that the first layer of cookies were those sugar cookies with a bit of strawberry jam on the top. They were slightly melted, sticking to a layer of tissue paper lining the tin. When she yanked harder on the lid, the whole tin went flying, flipping past her legs, and lying on the floor. The lid rolled away. Somehow the tin remained upright and only a few cookies fell on the floor. She picked them, shook off the dust and laid them carefully on the table. She sat on the floor, and rearranged the cookies. Inside were the jam cookies, a layer of plain sugar cookies, and few long rolls, like biscotti but with white sugar over them.

Sitting on the floor, she slowly ate the fallen cookies. Then standing up, she stepped backward and stepped on her purse. She heard a loud crack. She had managed to break the latch.

Then, he walked in.

"Time to talk of china and cats," he said,


"China?" she asked.

He nodded, putting his camera bag on the cookie tin, crushing the remaining cookies.

She watched the mail slide to the floor.

He nodded. “ The cat broke the last dish."

So, off to the store.