She came to me one morning. Her short, silky, black hair was wondrous to touch.
She woke me with a touch, sitting beside me. Her eyes were rivers of fluid gold, observing me, waiting for me.
I smiled. My first female companion of the day was one I adored more than any other of her kind, more than I do most people.
I greeted her sleepily, feeling her warm body relax fractionally.
She was my angel, my point of gravity, my all. She opened her mouth, obviously hungry.
“Fine, I’ll go open you a can,” I said to this wondrous cat.
Like "At the park" below, your piece too seems to hang on a trick whose depth is dubious. We think it is his lover; we then find out it is his cat. Clever - but not necessarily as effective as it could have been, as a narrative device (see my comment below on the other piece too).
ReplyDeleteThat said, there is some great writing her. "She came to me one morning" is a great first sentence - simple, but indicating the very beginning of a special bond. The sentence about her eyes is great, and beautifully structured. And I like the description of her as your "point of gravity", a metaphor ripe for extension.
I guess what I am saying is that your final sentence is an example of bathos - a potentially useful literary device in itself, but perhaps not at the crucial climax of a 101-word piece such as this.
By the way, what does your title mean? Or am I being obtuse?
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