Books. Bikes. Boomsticks. “I only regret that I have but one face to palm for my country.”
When I arrived, she told me one of her cats had carried it up from the basement and set it down on the floor at her feet, whereupon it had scrambled to the nearest vertical surface, attained some height and launched itself to skitter about. It had found the kitchen clock and scrambled behind it. "I'm pretty sure it's still there," she said. I set the small cardboard box down on the counter, open, and asked if she had a sturdy chair. She was ahead of me. "I have stepladder right here." We set up the ladder and I gloved up and climbed up. Lifting the clock from its hook revealed a small brown bat, huddled tightly into the hollow body of the clock, giving a strong impression of a creature who is hoping this is all a terrible dream.