"I feel so alone and lonely." I complained.
She grinned and shook off the excess of the cigarette stick she was holding. "Then why don't you own a cat?" she suggested.
"A cat? Why a cat?"
"Cats are nice. They're white and soft and they have nine lives." she explained as she looked at me and grinned again. "And they never leave, not unless you don't feed them and force them to take a bath which they obviously hate. And at least you'll never be lonely because you have a cat that breathes, rolls over the couch, licks your little toes when you rest, and will wait for your return when you get home from work. At least someone or something is waiting for your return. At least someone cares for you, even if it's not human."
I didn't speak. I just looked at her and then she started laughing, the kind of laugh that reminds you of childhood memories and teenage romances that never worked out.
"Meow," she purred.
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A/N: I'm not a cat person, just so you know.
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Roofs
Poetry"Forgetting is a lot like leaving someone or somewhere you recognized as home." (Copyright © Flores, Catherine 2015)
