#32: the cat gets the cream
Your monthly microfiction + postcard art
Two weeks ago, Rhody and I applied to renew our visas for another year here in France. Yesterday I cafe hopped and “co-worked” (read: talked and drank coffee) with my friend and fellow writer Ally. The coffee was strong and the sky got so blue as the day wore on. On the way home, I stopped for a glorious loaf of bread before biking down quiet side streets. Enjoying another day somewhere I love was well worth working til midnight in exchange.
For the first time kinda ever, I am living somewhere I have no intention of moving from. It’s humbling to be happy somewhere. Is this how y’all long-dwellers have been living this whole time? Now all I gotta do is get the French government on my side…
If all goes as planned, I’ll finally get to address the steady ticking of Rhody and I’s (sorta) biological clocks. We caught the fever, got the itch, the yowling call that I thought might never come upon us.
We want to get a cat.
How could we not, living here? Toulousaine cats feel like proper citizens, neighbors who rove the streets with at least as much authority as the humans, if not more. There’s the friendly cat across the street who weaves between the iron bars of her apartment complex gate, begging folks to stop and chat. Then there’s our downstairs neighbor cat, a sweet and awkward boy who loves attention but goes a’runnin’ from the slightest crinkle or jingle. I secretly hope our cat’s like this other one who’s on our street sometimes, so friendly she’ll follow you for a block just to plop at your feet.
My cat fever’s gotten so bad, I find myself inventing names for my latest fictional meow meow. Last week, I called her Gretchen. This week, she’s Turkey. So when we get the green light for another year on our visas, Rhody and I are getting a dang kitty named Chewing Gum or Turkey or Bonanza or whatever the hell our future little weirdo wants to be called. And this obsession with a cat friend may or may not have influenced this week’s fiction.
But first, let’s get into…
💌 the voting results for this month’s prompt and next month’s historical topic,
💌 bite-sized fiction,
💌 the art I made my paid subscribers/patrons this month,
💌 and my monthly creative news.
🗳 The votes are in
Patrons and subscribers voted for this month’s postcard-fiction prompt:
Action: picking a flower
Word: cream
Inspiration: the love letters of Emily Dickinson and Sue Gilbert
This story thrives with context, so if you haven’t yet, you should def read the article first:
🧁 The story - the cat gets the cream
Here’s the card I wrote on:
And here’s the story:
Emily whips the cream by hand. Judging by the tension cording her neck, stirring so long hurts her, but humans often do things that hurt them. Earlier, she burned her thumb while pulling something from the oven. The food’s cooling on the counter now, sweet and coiled like a garden snake.
But I mostly only care about the cream. Poised beside the bowl, I track Emily’s arm as it whips, whips, whips in a steady rhythm. My head moves back and forth to keep pace, and as her hand zips past again, I bat my own paw into the cream.
“Maple, no!” She shoos me with the spoon, but not before I swat again, catching some cream. Retreating to the windowsill, I lick at my reward.
Outside, our neighbor stoops on the dewy lawn to pluck a daisy. She twirls it between two fingers, then rises, heading our way. I lick the last of the cream from my paw as Emily lifts the spoon straight up from the bowl. The cream holds its stiff peak. Perfect. Its scent fills each corner of the room, thick and bright. My tail twitches; I hop onto the far end of the counter again, slinking forward.
“Maple, stop.” Emily grabs me, plopping me onto the floor without so much as a kiss. She doesn’t love me like her sister Vinny does, and always says I stink. But it’s alright; compared to the cream, she stinks too. And I don’t love her like I love Vinny, anyway. I only love Emily for the cream.
The kitchen’s screen door clatters and the neighbor appears, flower in hand. She hesitates. “Vinny home?”
“Not for awhile.”
The neighbor pulls Emily from the window’s line of sight and grins, tucking the daisy behind Emily’s ear. “For you.”
With Emily’s back to the cream, I hop onto the counter. Neither glance my way.
Settling her hands at the neighbor’s waist, Emily says “I have something for you, too” and kisses her, so different from how Vinny kisses my head, but a kiss nonetheless, the thing humans do to say they love you. Lucky me. I slink closer, pausing only to taste the coils Emily cooked. My nose twitches; too spiced. I creep towards the cream, one step, then another…
The neighbor pulls away with a sigh, and I freeze. But her eyes, love-dazed, never leave Emily’s face. She twirls a lock of Emily’s hair and kisses her again.
Confident now, I trot to the bowl and take a lick. It’s airy, sweet against my rough tongue. As they kiss, I lap at the cream, destroying the peak Emily made. Neither of them notice or care – they’re busy savoring some sweetness, just like me.
✒️ Your turn!
Now’s my favorite part: you write a short story yourself (500 words or less) using the prompts above, then share it with me when you’re done. You can reply to this email, post it in the comments, or call me on video chat and sing me the whole thing.
(As always, if you’re feeling stuck getting started, here’s an article I wrote on microfiction fundamentals.)
📖 Next month’s theme
This month y’all duked it out. Every theme was a contender. But despite some close calls, one historical weirdo pulled ahead, and for March we’ll be talking about…
📖 Fernando Pessoa - where art and life (and lying?) meet 📖
This is going to be a fun one, so buckle the frick up.
👩🏾❤️💋👩🏼 A month in postcard art
Who can turn down a good ole Boston Marriage photo? This month’s writing theme influenced my visual art for my postcard club. I can’t say if this trend will have staying power, or if I’ll end up painting unrelated weirdos for patrons in the coming months, but it was cool to keep it in a cohesive theme.
If you want a postcard mailed your way next month, sign up and vote!
🌍 Updates in my creative world
I am a FINALIST for PULP Literature’s novel competition, the First Page Cage Match. My novel was among the top two selected for the final round - woop woop! You’ll know next month if I won, but currently, I’m happy to have gotten as far as I have.
My zine is live! I edited all the fiction I wrote for Snail Mail Sweethearts in 2023 and compiled it into a zine that’s cute as a button. Order an e-zine or physical copy and read the final drafts today.
I started a painting with no plan, finished a weird rug, and am generally embracing that home-design-as-art thing. It’s been a privilege to grow as an artist; I can’t say why 2024 has clicked for my visual world so far, but I am loving the journey. When I finish the painting next month, y’all will be the first to know.
That’s all, folks. If you enjoyed the wild ride of Emily Dickinson and the fiction I wrote to go alongside, refer your friends so you can pick next month’s prompts :).
Thank you for a great February, friends - here’s to March!
All my love and stamps forever,
Nikita, your Snail Mail Sweetheart