 WILD AMERICA
By Wells TowerThe bell on the cat's collar roused her. He'd brought her something: a baby pigeon stolen from its nest, mauled and draped on Jacey's pillowcase. The thing was pink, nearly translucent, with magenta cheeks and lavender ovals around the eyes. It looked like a half-cooked eraser with dreams of someday becoming a prostitute. Jacey screamed briefly, then got up and ran to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her to contain the cat in the room. Her hope was that the cat would eat the bird before she had to look at it again. ...
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