Creative Writing

When James woke up at 7:00 sharp on a Tuesday morning like always, flipped his cover to the left as always, groggily climbed out of bed and did his morning stretches as always, something was different. Something he didn't like. He reached for his toothbrush and smeared it with mint Colgate like he always did. He checked the time; 7:10. He was right on schedule if not a little bit ahead. James stared warily at his reflection. Everything was normal, everything was good... but this morning he felt more control in his body than usual, almost too much. Like a car that was automatic waking up and becoming a stick shift. James chuckled at himself. Car's don't sleep, and definitely don't change overnight and neither do humans.
 He splashed cold water in his face, shivered because he hated getting wet, and briskly brushed his teeth, as not to fall behind schedule. He threw on the clothes he had carefully laid out the night before and skipped down the stairs, humming as he descended. He casually walked into the kitchen where his mother regarded him by taking only a second to look up at him from her newspaper. James walked over to the counter and stood on his tiptoes to nudge over the box of froot loops, his favorite cereal. The counter had always been too tall for him to reach. He was about to open the fridge and get milk when something very strange happened that further confirmed his suspicion that something was off that morning.
 His mother slammed her paper down on the table and yelled loudly, "Hey! Hey get down from there!" James stood there frozen, looking at her cynically. Was she talking to him? He certainly wasn't doing anything wrong, just getting himself some breakfast, yet she continued this strange yelling, urging him to get away from the counter. He placed down his frooty loops and backed away as his mother went back to her paper. James stared at her and she lowered her paper yet again. "What? I already fed you this morning, James. I don't see how you can still be so hungry that you would do something like that." James sputtered in frustration, she had done no such thing as feed him. But as he opened his mouth to prove her wrong, in place of words, a strange strangled cry escaped from his throat.
 James felt tears welling up in his eyes. Was he going insane? Why couldn't he talk? And why wasn't she letting him get breakfast? A horrible nausea swept over James as he was overtaken by realization. It hit him like a tsunami as he tumbled backwards, the weight of his discovery pressing down on him like a bulldozer. James was not a human at all, no, James was a cat. He had just forgot, how embarrassing.