Morning Muse

My nonchalant cat, racing along the baseboards, indicates to me that we have a guest. Likely a small shrew that, in the still of an empty house, appears in size tenfold.

The snout is what intimidates. Probing and poking, devoid of attraction. The antithesis of appealing. I shudder at its unverified existence, hypothesizing its demise.

The shrew’s doom born solely of my imagining.

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