
Differences mark her out, and those that are so marked can never fit in with the norms of society.
Yet another 365-word tale for your cerebral cortex to masticate.
Oh yes, she was very young, with green eyes and a very open face, you see. You know their type ... most of them are closed and guarded. The teenagers are always getting into trouble. I know you know what I mean.
Big families, don't you know.
And the grown-ups! Resentful and angry with everything! And they smell, 'specially when it rains. Now, I'm not racist or anything, but I'm glad that law was passed to keep them -- well, in places where they can be with their own kind and such. It has cut the numbers of incidents, hasn't it, and we are a lot better off, you know.
Let them be in their own places, and leave the rest of us alone. It's really for the best, indeed.
What was I saying?
That's right, she was always around the front here, after the kids had gone home. They leave about four thirty, and we don't close until six. She always appeared about five thirty, or just after. At first I thought she was looking for food, going to rummage through the dustbins or something.
Well, you would think that. I mean, they're not civilised, are they? But yet they're so ... charming? And sweet at that age? Like little pets. I suppose half the world's problems would be solved if we could keep them young. Of course, they always grow, don't they.
Well, eventually I noticed she was looking into the windows and at me, not just raiding the rubbish. Oh -- it was so eerie! She sat on the stone sculpture of the 'Cat in the Hat' -- very apt, don't you think? Me too! Maryanne and I locked up each night and she watched us. I swear I could almost feel her green eyes on me when I had my back turned.
You know, I almost thought she was trying to make me bring her home and look after her ... there's such stories of people adopting them. I think that's ... disturbing.
But of course I didn't!
Filthy things, those Furs, really. I expect she crept off into some other alleyway with someone of her own kind. You know they wash themselves in their own spit?
Yet another 365-word tale for your cerebral cortex to masticate.
oOo
Oh yes, she was very young, with green eyes and a very open face, you see. You know their type ... most of them are closed and guarded. The teenagers are always getting into trouble. I know you know what I mean.
Big families, don't you know.
And the grown-ups! Resentful and angry with everything! And they smell, 'specially when it rains. Now, I'm not racist or anything, but I'm glad that law was passed to keep them -- well, in places where they can be with their own kind and such. It has cut the numbers of incidents, hasn't it, and we are a lot better off, you know.
Let them be in their own places, and leave the rest of us alone. It's really for the best, indeed.
What was I saying?
That's right, she was always around the front here, after the kids had gone home. They leave about four thirty, and we don't close until six. She always appeared about five thirty, or just after. At first I thought she was looking for food, going to rummage through the dustbins or something.
Well, you would think that. I mean, they're not civilised, are they? But yet they're so ... charming? And sweet at that age? Like little pets. I suppose half the world's problems would be solved if we could keep them young. Of course, they always grow, don't they.
Well, eventually I noticed she was looking into the windows and at me, not just raiding the rubbish. Oh -- it was so eerie! She sat on the stone sculpture of the 'Cat in the Hat' -- very apt, don't you think? Me too! Maryanne and I locked up each night and she watched us. I swear I could almost feel her green eyes on me when I had my back turned.
You know, I almost thought she was trying to make me bring her home and look after her ... there's such stories of people adopting them. I think that's ... disturbing.
But of course I didn't!
Filthy things, those Furs, really. I expect she crept off into some other alleyway with someone of her own kind. You know they wash themselves in their own spit?
oOo
Category Story / Human
Species Housecat
Size 119 x 120px
File Size 339 B
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