Pinche pendejos muttered the former Bronx bodega cat to herself as she watched workers dragging hoses out of a mismarked van and into the townhouses under construction across the street.  What manner of substance would soon flow through those hoses was anyone’s guess but it was involving a great deal of racket.  This was not the usual jackhammer annoyance of a gasoline powered compressor, more of a sucking and spitting noise.  The van shuttered with each inhale and exhale from the engine hidden in the back.

It did not seem natural noted the cat.  But then again, so little did these days.

A sunbeam parted the curtain of clouds and sent a delicious beam of golden warmth through the window.  Adjusting the angle and inclination of her body to maximize the absorption of photons with an accuracy that would make the manager of any radio telescope array soil themselves in envy she slipped back into slumber.

 The engine within the mismarked van coughed politely then continued its rhythmic work.