Photo by Jon Sailer on Unsplash
No shade you offer
No protection you provide
How leaving leaves you
About the Creator
Keep reading
More stories from George Zelinski and writers in Poets and other communities.
Lap Cat
My nose is dripping, and Delia is tracing her fingers through my hair. Her husband is shirtless by the microwave, heating up leftovers from New Year's Eve. In 60 seconds, I'll be shoving mouthfuls of risotto between my quivering lips like a child and picking at semi-stale dinner rolls. Then, I'll pass my plate to one of their three Tabby cats (whom I can never tell apart) and let him/her/them (?) lick it clean.
By Erin Latham Sheaabout 18 hours ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
Thank you for your kind comment! So glad you liked it! All the best!
That last line really hits, George. Well done!