Camilla has been missing for three days now. I hope she’s still somewhere in the apartment and hasn’t ventured out the windows or ventilations or anything.

Often, I end up lying on the carpet tracing all viewable surfaces with my eyes. At times like this I regret my silly choice in pets. Its hard enough finding her as it is with her size and all. Let alone her ability to blend into her surroundings. My silly choices in love too.

“Can I touch?” she said with eyes almost as wide as Camilla’s.

“Sure.” I hold Camilla in front of her.

She carefully strokes Camilla’s spiky head all the way down to her back and her curled tail. Clearly holding her breath.

“Look she’s changed colors again.” she whispers exitedly.

I put Camilla on the couch. She turns blue.

I put Camilla on the bed. She turns white.

I put Camilla on the table. She is checkered red like the table cloth.

She laughs without a sound. As if she is afraid she might startle Camilla.

That afternoon, Camilla was moved around to at least a dozen colors and surfaces for her amusement.

But eventually, after many afternoons, she got tired of my room. Our hiding place. She didn’t have Camilla’s super powers, she wept. She didn’t have Camilla’s patience. She wanted to be seen with me. Out there.

And simply being with me in thought was no longer enough.


Sunday Market

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