The cat under the kotatsu

The cat had decided the kotatsu was hers in the third week of winter, and by the fifth she had also decided about the lap, and the blanket corner, and the small bowl of clementine peels on the floor that was hers by virtue of having been near her.

The girl read. The kettle whistled and was answered. Snow fell against the window in the soundless way of snow against a window in a house that has decided, for now, to be warm.

Outside the room, the year was hard. Inside the room, the cat was sleeping on a clementine peel. Both things were true. The cat slept harder.