What They Knew

by Nora Nadjarian

It was the cats, always the cats, one white, one grey.

Silent witnesses to the acts, they’d jump on the bed after we’d finished and we’d laugh about the things they knew.

The next time we’d meet at a dinner party the cats would stare at me relentlessly, unnerving me, blurring my eyes. “What’s gotten into them?” your wife would say, my husband would turn round to have a look, then you’d get up and call them. “Come on, Nino! Come on, Grigia! Scat!” and you’d lead them out into the garden, into the darkness, and return with a polite smile. You’d pour wine, be the perfect host, say all the right things.

While I made conversation with her, you, us, everyone, the cats’ eyes would burn holes into me from the porch outside. I’d feel their rage reading my skin. I knew they knew and they knew I knew.

The next time, and the time after that, and many times after that, I didn’t dare approach or touch them, for fear of being scratched raw on my arms, legs, belly. I was sure they’d claw the secret out of me.

Nora Nadjarian is a poet and writer from Cyprus. Her work was included in Europa 28 (Comma Press, 2020) and National Flash Fiction Day anthologies (2020 and 2023). Her short fiction has been published in various journals including Milk Candy Review, Ghost Parachute, Gone Lawn, Fractured Lit, CRAFT and was chosen for Wigleaf’s Top 50 Very Short Fictions of 2022 (selected by Kathy Fish). She placed third in the Welkin Writing Prize in 2025. Bluesky @noranadj.bsky.social Instagram https://www.instagram.com/noranadj/

Hear a reading of this work, and an interview with Nora Nadjarian on pod-ette Episode 8: Kittenette.