What Does He Have? | Microfiction

Squirrel illustration - "What Does He Have?" Microfiction

She’s just… exquisite.

The way her hair wafts in the breeze and shimmers under the sun. The way she smiles and licks her lips when she catches her breath. The way she takes in the world with big, hazel eyes, as though every day is the most beautiful she’s ever seen.

Every single move she makes is extraordinary. And her tail!

Oh, her gorgeous tail which wags happily at anyone and everyone she greets.

And that’s all I get from her now. A quick wag, a brief hello, and nothing more.

There was a time when she’d bound up to me and nuzzle at my neck in greeting. She’d let me chase her up and down the park, always too fast for me to catch her. We’d hunt through the trees in search of squirrels, noses to the ground to catch their scent. Sometimes, when she grew tired and our masters were absorbed in their conversation, I’d lay on the grass and let her rest her head on my chest as she dozed.

But now, a short wag of the tail is the only interaction she offers me.

There’s a new man hot on her heels in chase. A new friend to hunt with. A new pillow to lounge upon.

It hurts. I feel this pain – this dull ache in my chest – for the affection she used to give me.

What does he have that I don’t?

I don’t know why I’m asking. I already know.

He’s still got his balls.

Lucky bastard.

About Stories that Sing

Open Spotify (or music streaming platform of choice) and hit shuffle until you find a song you want to write about. This month was Stevie Wonder’s Ordinary Pain.

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