Saving Pebbles

I walk around like a madman. Don't you believe me?

I am holding a phone in my hands. It is broken, and so are my hands. I am walking across the street. The pebbles have come loose and are strewn about. My shoes are torn.

The streets are empty. The lights behind the windows have gone out.

I cannot help it, being here. You must understand, I am looking for my cat. It is only a kitten. I can only breathe again when I hold it in my arms.

The rain is pouring, so my toes go cold. The smell of rain washes away, bit by bit, the lingering smell of gasoline. I try to count the tires I step over that have littered the road, hotspots of burnt-rubber smell.

Calling quietly, under my breath: 'Mr. Pebbles!'

I see him after a while, sitting curiously under a street light that is broken. There are only sparks flying out of the light bulb and Mr. Pebbles is watching them fall down.

I call him again and he looks back at me, all scars and wounds and with a dreadful mood hovering over his eyes.

'It'll be okay,' I tell him, holding out my hands.

There is that sound of a running engine that was there before, but is now getting louder. Across the roof of the next house an orange light starts roaring, flames licking the panes, crawling around the windows. The fire starts in a matter of seconds. I can feel the heat stream over me as I watch it. Then, looking back, there is a car coming towards me. I cannot see who is driving it.

'Come on, Mr. Pebbles,' I urge him.

The cat stares at me apologetically. Sorry boss, not gonna happen.

'Mr. Pebbles!' I shout at him. He curls his tail under him and continues to watch me. The orange of the fire is reflected in his eyes, quite beautifully. I continue to stretch out my arms toward him.