She has been ignoring us for a week now, busy She says, with her exhibition. Too busy to sit a while and talk with a cat.
Water has poured from the sky and rain. Fierce storms that darkened the days. Yesterday the cloud rolled back and the sky was washed clean and for a moment we all sat together in the garden where roses hang like red fruits from the bushes, heavy with scent, a fairy tale brier patch.
The sun was warm and the day full of the smallest white moths like flying scraps of white ashes.
Then bells rang and She was off again.
But while She was busy we stole the camera and played hide and seek in the garden.