No One More, No One Less, No One Else
By: Virginia Allen “Oh Skittle, what will I ever do without you, sweetie?” Katrina inquired the old, orange cat sitting on the gray, ashy chair before her. Skittle’s tail flipped around like a snake as she quietly meowed. Katrina took a look around the crowded, dirty apartment as she sighed. The rooms were packed with boxes of filed photographs and broken objects. The place smelled and looked like a junkyard, it felt like a dank, dark cave where bears lived. The gloomy air fit it all, so did the orange cat hair that coated everything. Katrina blew the dust off French textbooks she rarely studied and dug into a cabinet full of McDonald’s coupons and pictures of Skittle when she was a kitten, she moved onto the next cabinet when what she needed wasn’t found, the teen threw out old clock with faded numbers, little jingo-jangos no one could name, and other things that reeked with age. When he delicate fingertips touched a broken piece of an antique plate, blood gushed out, streaming aro...