The white beasts hover, waiting for a free hand to touch them.

They hover around me, lying at my feet or resting a head on my leg. A heavy sigh fills the room. It triggers another. They aren’t content to sleep in the air-conditioned house as I attempt to make the story I dreamed the night before become sentences of sense. They nose me or lick my foot. Pet me, they say. Pet me. Leave those characters alone.