Still engrossed by a neighbor’s piano playing, Licorice remained in the same position near the front door. She hadn’t budged at all since Anton discovered her there after leaving his bedroom. Thankfully, he had a cup of coffee and the latest issue of<i>Sideburn </i>magazine to keep him company, seeing as how his four-legged roommate had better things to do.<br/><br/>The magazine, in his opinion, was a work of art, just as the motorcycles featured inside were also wonders to behold. Most of the bikes were one-off, tricked-out customs. The major manufacturers had nothing in their model lineup to compare. The magazine’s publishers obviously put a lot of love into its creation, as it was also printed on heavier stock. The only negative that came to mind was the fact it was printed four times a year. If Anton read an issue too fast, the wait for the next one was agonizing at best.<br/><br/>About mid-morning, the music ceased, and within five minutes, Licorice finally moved from her chosen spot. Gauging the direction in which she was heading, he surmised some food and water must be on her agenda. Putting the magazine down, he followed her into the kitchen for a java refill.<br/><br/>Back on the couch, he reflected on the music he and his kitty companion had just listened to. The pianist was clearly accomplished, as he could tell talent when he heard it. Evangeline had taught him well, after all. He was thankful that the mystery musician was not a drummer in a garage band. If that was the case, a few angry knocks on their door from irate neighbors was all but guaranteed. He smiled at the thought. Licorice had reappeared, her hunger and thirst satiated for now. Her tongue flicked all around her lips, probably making sure no crumbs were left behind. Anton smiled at this ritual of hers, as she did this every time after feeding.