The News: a Micropasta


        I woke up like I would every other time I tried to sleep: drenched in sweat, shivering, afraid to go back to sleep. I have this recurring dream--something involving static. I can't quite remember exactly what happens though. I glance over at my clock, it reads 3:00 am. I sigh, attempting to release all my bad thoughts out of my mind. I hop out of bed as quickly as possible —too afraid to go back to that dream— and walk over to the bathroom mirror. My bags have gotten worse, I think to myself. What should I do to wait out my time? I slip into my coziest PJ’s and wander down my staircase. Halfway down the stairs, I notice something blurry in the kitchen. I take off my glasses, clean them, and put them back on--turns out it was just a smudge. I finish heading downstairs, but I trip on the last step and roll my ankle. Letting out a slight moan of pain, I get up and head to the fridge for an ice pack of sorts. As I pull open the freezer, I see something scurry away through the corner of my eye. I figure it was just my cat and continue to find an ice pack. Heading over to the couch with my ice pack, I grab the remote and flip on the TV. While watching TV I wrap my arm around my cat. He’s so furry, too bad he sheds everywhere, I muse. Then I feel my cat climb on top of the couch, right about where my head is. The TV abruptly cuts to static. The news channel seems to have been interrupted by something. I get a shiver down my spine as I ask myself, What was the last thing that came on? Oh yeah, there were “reports of murderous shapeshifters” down in Vermont. What an absurd headline.’ Then I remembered I’m living in Vermont. I tried to assure myself, It doesn’t worry me since most of the news is fake anyways. Either way, me and my cat are safe here. It hits me about five seconds later:

 “I... don’t have a cat...”