He sights.
It is early morning, still dark.
Winter.
The cats are already wandering around, impatient.
He stretches, then throws the bed clothes away.
The cats follow him, expecting their breakfast.
After the shower, he is ready. The cats are, too, waiting in the kitchen.
He looks out, the darkness is receding.
Black coffee follows, the morning ceremony of preparing the pot.
A shadow disturbs him. He look out, a pigeon sits on the sill, waiting for him.
He looks at the bird.
He waits.
And waits…
He heard steps on the floor above. His ears are wide open, to see, to hear, how they will develop.
Then, silence.
He waits a bit more.
Still silence.
He relaxes.
Then…
Errant sedentary wanderer 