A glimpse

The smell of gas was nauseating, but the cold sweat was worse. I dragged a carpet next to the heater and tucked my book underneath. Back in the bedroom, the walls were slick with humidity, the paint bubbling with mold. I wrestled a heavy wool blanket from the pile—it was made from the last sheep we butchered, still carrying the earthy scent of hay and faint traces of blood. It reeked, but it was better than the gas.

Settling on the carpet, I wrapped myself in the cover, letting the book rest in front of my face, and my nose itching with allergies. As I leaned back against the damp wall, my gaze caught a needle-sized hole in the copper gas pipe, faintly illuminated by the heater’s flickering light. A black dot. I thought about leaning in, taking one long, deep breath. Wouldn’t that be easier? The suffering of winter, over in an instant. I could already see the headline: “A Number of Deaths Due to Carbon Monoxide Poisoning.” Just another statistic.

A sudden car alarm jolted me out of my thoughts. It came from the kitchen. I climbed the counter to peer out the window toward the neighborhood garage. The cold glass chilled my forehead as I leaned in, raindrops streaking down the surface, and my toes curled against the icy counter. The white light from the garage illuminated the rubble piled carelessly near our window, but most the cars were lined up by the neighboring building, that was were the cats would hid in suh cold. only the rats left for us.

Then came a metallic bang, followed by a faint scratching sound. It was distant but unmistakable. I was used to these strange noises, but this one felt off. Grabbing the Nokia phone, old but with a reliable flashlight, I returned to the kitchen. This time, I spread a towel with burned holed on the counter and climbed back up. I pointed the flashlight at the desk and waited. Minutes passed. I heard owls shifting in the trees, the scurrying of rats and stray cats moving from car to car. Still, the desk remained still. The security guard didn’t even care, though his office faced our window, and My Nokia light his windows.

Suddenly, the top drawer shifted an inch with a faint thud and squeak. My heart jumped. I angled the light away, not wanting to scare whatever was inside. Then, a small caramel-colored paw emerged. A giggle escaped me, and the paw retreated. For hours, I sat in the freezing kitchen, watching that tiny paw appear and disappear. My toes were numb, my fingers buried under my armpits for warmth. My sweater clung to me, damp from the vapor, and my nose dripped constantly. I thought about grabbing the wool blanket, but the mess it would make in the kitchen—and my mother’s inevitable scolding—kept me planted where I was.

As dawn crept in, I quickly dressed in my warmest clothes and hurried outside. The world looked otherworldly, the muted tones of pre-sunrise giving everything a surreal, Neptune-like quality. At the garage, I knocked on the door. The security guard, bundled in a heavy coat and comically fluffy socks, answered with a scowl. then looking down to see only my eyes between the scarf and the hat.

"What are you doing here?! what do you want?!" he said in shock

“I live in the house with the corner windows,” I said, shivering. “You know my brother, ______. My cat’s stuck in that desk.” I pointed toward it. “Can I go get him, please?”

He hesitated, his eyes flicking over my disheveled appearance—dark circles under my eyes, my red nose, the thin layers of clothing failing to hide my sleepless night.

"Ok, but in a hurry, and you can't let anyone know I let you in. which desk is it?" he walked by the rubbles.

I lead him to the desk, and he pulled open the drawer. Inside, the small Caramel colored cat was frozen. ice at the tip of his tail and whiskers looking like glass shards.

"I think it died from the cold. I'll throw it in the trash. you should go home.", His voice softening.

"No! I'll bury it!" I stopped him, with a sadness that overcame me.

“That’s not safe,” he said, his tone firm but sad. “He might’ve had a disease.”

“We have trees in the backyard,” I insisted. “His body will quickly go back to earth"

The guard sighed and agreed, too cold to argue with a child in the early mornings. I wrapped the small cat in a handkerchief I’d stuffed in my pocket and carried him home. By the heater, I gently laid him down, waiting for any sign of breath or movement. None came. I went outside, and the garden beds were covered by Hibiscus trees, large green leaves, and different types only distinguishable by the colorful ribbon on each tree branch. When his body stiffened completely, I took the hoe from beside the hibiscus plants and dug a hole in the backyard. Carefully, I placed him inside, patting the dirt firmly around him. To mark the spot, I broke a branch from the hibiscus and planted it above his resting place. It bloomed Orange in Summer.