Pesadilla sat in the trees his black fur camouflaged with the leaves,
his tail swaying back and fourth like a clock's pendulum going tic, toc, tic, toc,
and his piercing ice blue eyes like slits watching, waiting.
The sun was setting very slow as if time went into slow motion.
Not that it mattered. Being alone all the time has that kind of effect on a cat
but its not like Pesadilla knew anything other than loneliness.
Maybe he liked it better that way, no confusing feelings, no mistakes, but...no love...