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.