Her breasts still contain milk and her eyes still gaze up on me as if asking if I've seen those kitten anywhere. Maybe somewhere they are still hungry and cooing for milk, maybe under the files or behind the boxes they'd have crawled into mistakenly. Mercury goes in and out, stands still, looking into the empty shelf where she delivered 3 kitten yesterday afternoon. She couldn't save them when her partner came rushing and killing one after another. Certainly they ain't known for their parental skills much. But, what a cruel behaviour, what a sordid pain.
They still hop and skip infront of me, become attentive and playful as i go near, expecting to get some belly rubs or a couple of biscuits, but it's hard to even touch them remembering that pool of fresh blood those lifeless kitten were lying in. Mercury follows his trail, plays with him, as if she has forgotten and forgiven too soon. Just once in a while, she doesn't forget to go and check again the shelf, maybe they're back, waiting to be fed, waiting to be brought up into fine bright cats.
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