Friday morning

Perhaps people aren't really attracted to the superficials of beauty. They are attracted to what lies beneath it – and what they fear the most – that others have what they never will - the freedom and luck to make the world whatever they please, to make it theirs. It’s the promise of taking part in that journey which seduces them. Not the hair or the eyes or the perfect flawless skin but the idea that something beyond the mundane invites itself closer towards them to fill the emptiness.

Humid heavy air was pressing down on her, sticking an oversize black shirt to her body. There was nowhere to go to escape its clinging grip. Only people in houses with darkened corridors and musty smell permeating the bricks, and unkept front yards. Cats of different colours and styles; furless, fury, calico, black, timid; some teasing, and some just laying around staring as she walked past. Others hid under cars and watched her from behind fences. This was cat's country and she liked it that way.

There seemed little point in interacting with anyone who posted unfriendly signs to keep away from an occasional flower bed or for stealing a sad green bucket. She couldn't understand what was so appealing about other human beings. For most part they were just lost children residing within adult bodies, hiding under memorised lines and pleasantries; never saying what they truly wanted but acting from unconscious desires nevertheless.