So, because it was late, there was nothing happening. No cows, no lawns, no people. And, because it was late, that overly bright light – it’s never been a popular light – at the end of that pole, beside the barn, was not there. The barn was not there either. The dawn horses were trotting in the back pasture – which was not cleared. Mother might have been feeding the eye of a needle and sister might have been eating fire; neither could be seen nor heard, however.

         The house was not there.

         The drive was not there. The unmixed pavement remained underground. No buildings built, no cars manufactured, no pestilence sown. The barbed wire fence was not. The fence posts were trees.

         And, because it was late, there was nothing happening. The internet wandered, adrift somewhere between deficient phone lines and strands of ether. Every single idea disappeared into the pregnant clouds and there was no longer any motive for searching anymore – nor fingers, nor keyboards, nor thoughts.

         Every thought turned to rain. Muddy memories trickled away.  

         Sadie-cat found food just fine.

         And, because it was late, Sadie-cat was preparing her back legs to pounce on the junglefowl, completely oblivious of the lowing oxen in the misty twilight.