Short story: Pet



She wears a deadpan expression, maybe sultry, maybe smoky, maybe wistful, maybe bored.

Who can tell.

I call her kitty because of her big green eyes, her soft silky hair, and the cool way she moves, even restrained.

I don't know her name.

Some people might think that's a bit sexist, picking up a girl for her softness and coolness and bright eyes and not for the things inside her, that maybe I'm shallow.

That's not true.

I love her, even though she might be bored, even though she might have a stone heart and a wicked tongue and not like me.

I could watch her for hours.

She wears a deadpan expression, maybe sultry, maybe smoky, maybe wistful, maybe bored.

Maybe fuddled, pleading, sobbing, choking, begging for mercy.

But not free.

I'm going to keep her.

This is the result of a fifteen minute writing exercise. The only constrictions were the time limit and five randomly selected words from the dictionary. Today the words were: fuddled, deadpan, sexist, kitty, and stone.

Image courtesy of Pascal B..