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Today’s word of the day was nemesis.  Just a little snippet of real life.


Nemesis, noun.  A source of harm or ruin.


“And now, my fuzzy nemesis, your time has come!”

Jasper looked up at the human looming over him.  She was going away again, he could tell.  He stretched slightly and snuggled deeper into her lap, starting to purr.  She sighed and stroked his head.

“Really, Jasper, I need to go to bed.  You’re going to have to get up.”

He lifted his chin and she obediently started to stroke his throat.  She was so easy to manipulate it was ridiculous.  On a good evening he could hold her in place for half an hour or more past the time she first started trying to leave.

“I mean it,” she said.  “I’m going to bed.”

She stroked his head and sides for a few more minutes and then sighed.

Gently she started to insinuate her hands under his body.  Rebelliously, he went as limp as possible, almost sinking into her legs as she struggled to remove him.  Eventually, though, she managed to get enough of a grip to lift him, and then he knew it was over.

He shook himself slightly and stalked a few paces away before sitting down and looking reproachfully back at her.

She laughed and stroked his head again.

“Sorry, darling, but you should be used to this by now.”

“Get in the box.”

Katze hissed and swiped a claw at her human.  Her legs splayed outwards as she tried to make herself too large to fit.

“Katze, really.  It’s only a little box.  You like boxes normally.”  He lifted her away from the box and tried to manoeuvre her back legs into the space.  She hissed again and wriggled free.  Her human dropped her with a muffled oath.

From under the sofa she watched as he examined the scratch on his arm.  It was long and bloody.  Served him right, trying to put her in a box!

Tears were welling in the eyes of the little boy, and Katze felt a little shame.  It was true that normally she liked boxes, so it was only reasonable for Georgie to try to put her in one, and he was only four.  He didn’t know any better.

Today was not the day for it though.

The boy was looking at her again.  He sniffed.  “I don’t understand you, Katze.  If I left you alone you would probably go in the box on your own.  Why won’t you help me with my speriment?”

That, right there, that was why.  Experiment.

The boy’s father, Erwin, had explained enough of his experiments to her over the years that she was well acquainted with the word.  And given the experiment that Erwin had been describing to her yesterday, there was no way she was getting in any box today.

Not while the box was held by a Schrodinger.

The Author

Nicola Higgins is a 30-something martial artist who runs two Brownie packs and works full time. She somehow still finds time to write.

Her favourite genres are near-future and alternate world science fiction and fantasy.

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