Four letter words story

The cat. That wild cat that was once mine. The damn car that hit her. He won't care. All I can do now is bury my cat. I miss her. He won't say sorry or even buy me a new cat. But a new cat is not the same. Not the same meow or even the same blue eyes. My cat, Beth, she was one of a kind. Her meow was like music. Her purr like a song of dark. The big blue eyes that stare at me as if I was a work of art and she was the artist.

I wrote this story for a writing exercise with John Marsden, an author from Australia that visited us.