She looks at me like I’m old news. I’ve seen that look before, just before she got rid of her favorite high heels and those sneakers that had supported her forest walks and trips to the zoo. Unlike before when there used to be replacements, now their spots remain empty.  

At one time, I was untouched and unblemished, fully fur-line with bright, spunky fur that totally embraced her icy cold feet.

Now my fur is worn and flattened, disheveled as if caught in a bad whirlwind of a muddy storm. My insides are still warm and I’ll admit I’m tired, but I’m still functional. So what if I have a few worn-down spots? Inside and out. My soles are like steel now. Hardened and experienced.

She sighs every time she slips into me. Her worry lines disappearing. How can any replacement provide that same level of comfort? It would take any replacement months, probably even a year before they’d hear that same sigh.

Doesn’t she realize I’m home?

How can she throw away home?


About Diana Stout

Screenwriter, author, former English professor
This entry was posted in #amwriting, fiction, Writer at Work, Writing Behind the Scenes and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Home

  1. J.Q. Rose says:

    Awww, I love this. What a heart jolting question. Throw away home. Thanks for sharing.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Diana Stout says:

    Thanks! And, thanks for visiting. 🙂


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