Distracted

A sigh slips from my lips as I plop into my desk chair. The computer is up and ready with the purple screen of a desired webpost. “Alright,” I knead my fingers between my knuckles. “What should I write about this week?” The roughness of my knuckles makes me purse my lips. “My hands are pretty dry. I should put on some lotion.” I swivel the chair, but don’t bother to get up. “I don’t want lotion on the keyboard, though.” With a nod to myself, I decide it can wait until I’m done writing.

A face peeking through the bedroom doorway keep my gaze from going back to the computer. A tortoiseshell kitten with her wide golden eyes stares back at me in a deep hunter’s crouch. When I smile at her, she arches her back and hops forward in the instigation of play. The moment I spring out of my chair, she bolts from the bedroom. I chase her to the TV until she arches again. Her ears pin back to show she’s big and tough. When I turn on my heels, she chases me down the hall with paws swiping at my calves. Back at the bedroom, I turn back on her. She beats me to the front room and hops in the box that’s her base. I kneel on the floor and play with her there. I grab her favorite ball and toss it in the air. She goes after it at once and when it lands in the box, she pounces right in like it swallowed her up. We play for a while until she walks away.

Back at my computer, the screen is a disappointment. “I haven’t started anything,” I let out as a sigh. I check out a few journals, search a writing prompt or two, but nothing causes a spark. Nothing demands the page.

There’s a clatter of boxes, then a race of thudding feet. The kitten pounces on the doorframe, holding on for seconds with her claws. I don’t get a chance to say anything before she’s bounding away. The zoomies took over her. There’s nothing to be done. She circles the front room then disappears under the bed. I don’t even move and she zooms right past. Straight in the bathroom and up on the counter. Jumps to the toilet, but not quite the shower. She comes back into the bedroom and gives me a dead stare. I suppose writing can wait. I still have time before the deadline. My little kitten needs attention. To ignore her would be a crime.