Jessica was in the alley feeding the cat, and if I didn’t stop her we’d all be sent to prison.
The cat had come to our door. I had my Glock and loaded it, but my wife had taken it from me.
“It’s all she has.” I saw tears in my wife’s eyes.

Jessica had made a friend, maybe her first, but if she wasn’t careful we’d pay. Just last week a puppy mill had been burned to the ground by the government outside of town, the owners dragged off for having pets, which was illegal.
There was only enough food to go around at this point, and animals were only bred for food now. Never mind the fact a couple could have no more than two children, a boy and a girl only.
I watched through the curtains as Jessica tossed food from her hiding spot and fed the animal. When I was her age I had a cat. Maizey. Long gone.
“If a neighbor sees–”
My wife hugged me from behind. “Jessica knows. She does. If anyone sees her she can deny it.”
I knew in the morning I’d have to find the cat and turn it in.
This story appears as part of Dystopia, a PUNK NOIR Magazine series.
Bio
Armand Rosamilia is a full-time crime thriller and horror author. He enjoys coffee, bourbon and bourbon-flavored coffee.
PUNK NOIR, the online literary and arts magazine that looks at the world at its most askew, casting a bloodshot eye over the written word, film, music, television and more.
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