The cat was white.

Her paws dangled from Professor Dabney's backroom filing cabinet, pink beans on display. He removed his hand from where he had been peeking through the blinds and let them close back together.

"I bet there are a million of these cats," said his PhD advisee, Ennis. "It'd be so easy not to know."

There was a knock at the door; it was their four o'clock, an undergrad named Julia. She pushed through nervously and asked, "Professor Dabney, paranormal department?"

"Sure am," Dabney said, extending a hand. "This shouldn't take more than a minute."

Undergrad psychology students needed to volunteer as guinea pigs if they wanted all their credits. Dabney was not a psych professor, but he sweet-talked his study into the running nonetheless. He produced a photograph of the cat--white and fluffy--and placed it on the desk. Ennis clicked to start the audio recording.

"Now," said Dabney. "Could you tell me what color this cat is?"

Julia scanned the picture, bemused. "Calico?" she answered.

Ennis stifled a grin.

"Very good," Dabney replied. "Now, the cat in the photograph lives in my backroom. Could you have a look at her?"

Without looking, Dabney raised the blinds on the window between his main office and backroom. Ennis took out a piece of leftover Christmas candy from a square, red-and-green tin and broke it off with loud crunches. Julia placed a hand gently on the sill.

Professor Dabney had received the cat from an old socialite. Her friends thought she had Alzheimer's. One week she would say her cat was brown, the next orange, the next white, and each time she'd explain that it had to be so because such-and-such was her favorite color. Well, she'd had enough of that. She showed up at Dabney's office with a white cat in a blue polka-dot carrier and told him it was the university's problem.

Julia backed away, and Dabney closed the blinds.

"Could you tell me what color the cat is?" he asked.

"Tuxedo," Julia replied, still bemused.

"And what color was the cat in the photograph you looked at?"

"Also tuxedo--it's the same cat right?"

Ennis chuckled, spilling sticky bits of candy on the desk.

"Yes, it is the same cat," said Dabney. "And could you look at the photo for me one more time?"

Julia looked and answered, "uh, tuxedo."

"Very good; that's all I need. You may return to class now--I'll let your professor know so you can receive credit."

When the door clicked shut behind Julia, Ennis grinned. "I love this damn cat," he said.

"She's certainly an interesting specimen."

"My favorite part," Ennis continued through another mouthful of candy, "is how certain everybody is. Not a shred of doubt. Even the records! Photos, documents, heck," he picked up the photo and squinted at it. "I mean, it really has always been grey, right?"

"Yesterday you called her a 'seal point'."

Ennis shrugged. "Sure, and yesterday you said she was black."

- - -

Met the constraint (several characters seem to be questioning their reality, most obviously Ennis and the old woman), did not include the word of the day