Holy-shit moments always make for good writing. Or in my case lately, any. This morning after swinging over to exit at Carmenita and somehow still at the high rate of speed required to do so, I noticed a small tabby cat between two lanes in the middle of the freeway. Its body contorted when a car went by, but failed to deliver the gruesome memory I was expecting to take away and, as I kept watch in the rearview mirror (what I certainly don't remember at all is continuing to drive), bounded to the side safely.