The tail of the dead rat wrapped back past its head, right paws frozen in the air, black eye open and unblinking. It seemed an omen. I wanted to take a picture, but stopped for fear of who would see and mock me.
Later that day BB1 came over, buried it carefully, expressed his sympathy for its loss. I still saw it as an omen. Without it’s tail, would it be less worrisome? Without stories of historic plagues, and fairy tales, and urban legends, would it seem friendlier?
A rat lay by my car - dead and harmless - an omen of nothing worse than my own careless thoughts.