The sun is warm on my back. I'm stretched out on the windowsill, comfortably twisted.
Wait... I'm supposed to be in bed. I need to get up for work.
I twist my head to look at the bed and see myself sitting up, watching myself with a satisfied smile.
I look at my hands. My paws. I don't understand.
I look back up at the me up on the bed. I watch me with catlike quiet and a smile of pure evil.
Not me. The cat.
I watch helplessly as he gets up, dons my work clothes, and pours food into my dish.
"Have a nice day, Mittens. I'm going to work, as usual," he mocks, then grins at me and leaves.
I just watch him, still not processing what on earth is going on.
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