So, there's this thing called the Thursday Prompt, hosted by one  poetigress , right? Anyway, writing's this special thing for me...I'm not necessarily great at it, I think I'm even too much in love with the stuff I do do (AAHUHUHUHAAHUHUHH-immature), but sometimes, I get taken with it, and crap (<_<) starts flying.

(Edit, it's Wednesday...so like, last Thursday's Prompt...okay, good)

But onto the show-

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"So, what is it, really?" - "I told you, it's a ship." - "No ship can be that small..." - "That's where you're wrong, it's a ship, it can float." - "It just chooses not to?" - "...that could be it." Dust exploded into the room's stuffy atmosphere as a creature of feline persuasion crashed onto the padded chair, watching with subdued eyes, their owner's hands at work. "But why keep it in there? I don't care much for the stuff myself...but it is a ship, it should know what it is like to sail." Tiny tongs clinked an unwritten song, patient breaths filling the builder's chest. "And you're a cat." - "There is no denying that." - "Listen to me, you're a cat...distant cousin to the lions and tigers half a world over, but that doesn't mean you're suited to stalking zebras and gazelles." - "Rodents are my speciality..." - "So just like you, this ship doesn't do what its big cousins do...it..." No thicker than a toothpick, a weathered mast was slipped into place. "...does what it's capable of." The cat exchanged its disinterested gaze with stiffening boredom, examining the stripping wood. "...but you keep it locked away. No fun there, all bottled up." Their face wrinkled with a wise, knowing smile. "...we do the same to ourselves." A gentle tug erected a windless sail. "Don't you chase the mice in the shack, and lay by the window?" - "I do, but what does-" - "Instead of enjoying the sea air, and chasing the crabs on the beach?" Weather beaten and age worn, the man's eyes looked through their work. "...I tell you, we do the exact same thing to ourselves." Quietly, the cat slipped from chair's comfort, seeking the window's edge. "...you can find me in my usual place." Slinking away, the chink and ring of metal on glass took the conversation's place. "Yes...we do the same to ourselves." One glance out the sole window, over his feline friend, he saw his beached ship, in the very same condition as he. "...but good, that's one more done!" Cradling it in steady hands, the man placed his finished craft on the shelf above him...another ship for his bottled fleet.