Casey leaned down slowly, his muddy fingers running through the soft fur of a grey cat.
The little cat brushed against both of his legs, pushing herself in between his ankles.
Casey wasn't sure who the cat belonged to, but she was patient as he stroked her, his toy tucks forgotten in the wet sand beside him.
Her eyes gleamed orange as she meowed up at him, her mouth pink and turned in a toothy smile.
The cat in his hands stiffened, and bolted away from Casey, shoving herself into the brush and out of sight.
Casey looked up sadly, feeling alone.
A door slammed shut at the front of the house, and he just could see a dark figure make his way down the steps.
The man turned, catching his sons eye, and stopped for a moment.
His hair was dark and short, his features strong. His eyes were brown, but a bit of green was mixed in, just like Casey. He stood very tall, and well built, but he looked defeated, and his body slouched.
His eyes were filled with an unspoken sadness, and he could not hold Casey's gaze any longer. He turned away, and sat himself inside a rusty old white car, trying not to look back.
Casey squatted, picking up his dirty toys once again, bashing them together.
He didn't know it was the last time he would ever see his father.
YOU ARE READING
- WhiteBird -
General FictionHighest Rank #1 in Knight Rider #1 in Kitt Casey's only reminder of the only person who ever loved him, is the small tattoo of a white bird on his right wrist. To him it indicates the last remnants of his past, and his only way to escape the tow...
