I’m Not the Black Cat

I am not the black cat. There were four of us; my grandmother, a black cat, a myth, and I.

My grandmother often told us a myth. When you are ill, she said, if a black cat comes and sits on your bed it means that you will die soon.

I was only six, seriously ill. Our black cat came and sat on my bed. I just remember some crashes and screams and a handle of the brush hitting that poor cat.

Years passed. My grandmother, and the black cat, died. I, and the myth, not yet.

But, I am not the black cat.