Night in the city, streetlamps too far apart, shadows between them hinder contact. A cat, is it black, crosses the street and disappear into a yard, it's seen by a sewer rat that waits for thrown away food to eat outside the burger bar. A lackluster breeze blows waste paper about, then stops; rolls itself into a ball and goes to sleep under the span of a bridge. Two hours sleep, and it will be a morning breeze. The cat, is it black, has fooled the long tailed, it only to feigned disappearance to lure the rodent into the open; short struggle, a shudder oscillate between shadow and light, come to rest as a sight; motherless rats will be food for bigger ones now, as night continues its travel towards a new day.
