Pet

She'd once been given a pet.

Quite simply. He'd come over one day and, laughing (his laughter held all the sun and all the rain), had taken her hand. When he let go, she was already holding the little animal, tiny, very pleasant to the touch, incredibly fragile and delicate.

The animal was clearly incredibly comfortable in the warm comfort of her soft hand. Safe and sound. After a while, however, it allowed itself to wander a bit timidly across her body. It climbed up her arm to her cheek, clinging carefully to her skin with its tiny paws and delicate claws. It was very careful, God forbid, not to offend her, not to stand too firmly, not to disturb her, not to hurt her.

From her cheek, it moved to the corner of her mouth, comfortable and pleasant. It slipped into her mouth, where it carefully traced her teeth, examining their shape and sharpness with a faint smile.

When it finished examining her face, it would hide among her hair, wandering between the strands, gently moving them. It slid back down her hair to her neck, where it fell asleep, nestled in the small dimple just above her collarbone.

She sometimes forgot the animal's presence. Besides, it wasn't intrusive at all, perfectly sensing when to remind her. So that she would forget everything, good and evil, heaven and hell. There was only a moment – ​​carpe diem – she, the animal, the sun and the rain.

They were getting used to each other. Slowly. She learned not to jerk her hair back or shake her head, not to shake the animal under any circumstances, not to throw it off her, not to let it disappear.

But it didn't want to disappear at all. On the contrary, it grew more and more daring. It discovered the warm curve of her breasts, where it delighted in wandering – initially shy and clumsy, then quickly finished, startled by this new territory, and fled to the familiar comfort of her neck. Only after a while did she allow herself to stay there longer, even to fall asleep, curled up in a ball.

She was initially a little frightened, but she quickly realized she didn't want the animal to stop.

Soon after, the animal felt the change, but it was a good change, bringing it complete peace and a sense of security. From then on, it roamed freely over her body, without hesitation. It felt with its entire being that she wanted it, that she had nothing against it, and was very happy to have the animal with her.

And then it realized that something extraordinary was happening, something about which it was necessary to be more gentle than ever before. It smiled faintly and, purring softly, settled into that tiny dimple that was still its favorite place. Nowhere did it feel so good, so safe, as it did there.

And when it finally had to share Her, when Her little Copy appeared, it wasn't jealous at all. Sometimes, when it felt it could leave Her for a moment, just a moment, it would run to that Copy and snuggle into her hand, nuzzle her nose with its tail, gently tickle her feet with its claws. And then it would return to Her, because only with Her could it feel truly calm and safe.

After a while, the patter of Copy's feet could be heard throughout the house, along with her voice, sometimes quite soft, sometimes loud and shrill. And although the animal didn't like noise, this particular noise didn't bother it; it was kind and homely in its own way. And She followed Copy, always with that faint smile on her face and the dimple in her neck where the animal hid, occasionally gently touched by Her fingers.

And although Copy quickly disappeared with her own pet, it didn't feel nervous. Because it had Her all the time, and it also had, as always, sunshine and rain. And that was enough. Hiding in the corner of her mouth when she smiled and curling up in her hand as she went about her daily chores was enough.

And it went on.

But the little animal always felt everything before she did. And before she sensed that something was wrong. Because although the sun was still shining and the rain was still falling, the sun wasn't as warm anymore, and the rain wasn't as wet.

And when they disappeared completely, the little animal felt the dimple in her neck disappear as well.

So one day, instead of sliding down her hair to her neck, she slid to the floor.

And walked away, tapping inaudibly with her tiny claws.