Beyond her skin lay a cat. Not those extravagant, fluffed up
ones you gaze at in a pet shop window and beg your parents
to buy you one. Those have a cold gaze in their icy eyes,
daring you to dismiss their elegance. They walk with the
grace of a highly hailed queen, nibbling prettily at their
culinary delight of the day.
Not her...
She held within her the grace of a tiger cat, with
gray-white markings. Her eyes a striking yellow, shaped like
crescents with sharpened tips. You see them, and usually
don't notice those details.
?And why should you, actually
Just another street cat, scavenging scraps of survival.
Prowling the streets, by a definition of them, some would
look and wonder if they were searching for affection, or
recognition. If they are starving for attention and miss
their mothers. She wasn't one of those. She lost faith long
ago, and knew that the only person to really care for
herself was she.
When you see her walking down the street, you stop and ogle.
You really can't help it. She walked with confidence, sure
of herself and only herself. Nobody else existed in her
world.
Her eyes, deep and striking, never really looked at you.
Always distracted by some other realm, a fantasy she was
trapped in. Her hair dark, held a mystery in it. When she
would stop for a moment to tie her shoelace, or tuck her
hair behind her ear, she had no idea that people are
secretly studying her, trying to understand her beauty, her
ingrained assurance. When those people got home, they would
look in their mirrors and try to copy her movements, the way
her fingers moved and how she walked. The way she played
with the world like a characteristic fairy.