
Photo by Marla Prusik on Unsplash
He sat there quietly most days. No meow, no purr, no scratch came out of the box. He found his calm space among the plants in the living room.
Sometimes he would play under a palm tree, juggling green gum ball as if it were a mouse. It was his only dream vacation. Or hunting for feather butterflies or dragonflies due to the lack of real ones.
Sometimes imitation of life is all we can have.
About the Creator
Moon Desert
UK-based
BA in Cultural Studies
Crime Fiction: Love
Poetry: Friend
Psychology: Salvation
Where the wild roses grow full of words...




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