The cat sat on the mat.
The mat was by the door.
It was cold outside and there was a draft blowing through the loose-fitting door. The cat slept or pretended to sleep. A vacuum cleaner whirred from some place upstairs.
The cat slept or pretended to sleep. A washing machine slowly turned through its cycles. Its churning indifference replaced the urgency of the vacuum cleaner which was now silent. The woman upstairs moved from room to room collecting this and that which needed to be collected and then needed to be thrown out. She huffed at things that had collected themselves over the winter months and made sharp references as to what would happen in the future. The washing machine began to wake to another cycle and this time its effort increased.
The cat sat on the mat, but was not asleep.
The man sat at his writing desk and tried to write. It was cold outside, but the sun was shining. He liked the sun and hated the cold. He listened to the increasing speed of the washing machine and was thankful that the vacuum cleaner had stopped its busy cleansing. He looked around for the cat that should have been sleeping, but found that there was no mat at the door. No mat meant no cat.
The washing machine spun for take-off. Any moment now they would all be leaving the ground and heading off into the clouds that had already been hushed into vapours on this cold, cold day.