Sunday, March 31, 2019

They called her Bags

 She hurried down the street ladened with bags, one around her neck, four on a trolley and two slung over her arms. Her whole existence was carried in them.

She had been on the streets for many a year and all of her life was packed carefully into each one. The one around her neck carried what few photos she had of a previous life, comfortable, homely sort of life. The four on the trolley each contained what few clothes and toiletries  she had acquired.  The two slung over her arm were the most important to her, for in each of these bags slept an ageing cat, one ginger, one black and white. These were her companions, and they loved her as much as she loved them. She knew each of them were nearing the end of their days, and she also was on her last journey.

That night the wind howled, such a bone chilling noise, it was almost like it too was lamenting that their time was coming to an end. Snuggled up together on a shop doorstep the three of them gave warmth and comfort to each other. She fed the cats the last of the food she had. They returned their love with a soft purring noise. She drew her old raincoat over them all and knew tonight would be the last time they closed their eyes together.


She was found by the shopkeeper in the morning with her two cats. They all looked like they were sleeping peacefully. The old lady had an arm around each of her companions and a smile was fixed upon her lips. The bags were piled behind her, all that was left of the life that was hers and yet there she lay with a smile.


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