Kitten has been hanging out on a street corner. She looks up at the passing men and mews prettily. She looks at their hungry faces and mews plaintively.
They see the thin collar around her neck and know they mustn't touch. But it's a very thin collar, almost a mere suggestion of ownership. And there she is, loitering on the street corner, looking lost.
Her eyes say that she feels lost.
They don't touch, the hungry men.
But they talk.
They tell her what they would do with her if she would but follow them home.
She doesn't take the bait. It's poisoned. Later, back in her own little house, on her large lonely bed, she touches and cums and cries. And her sodden pillow hears her whisper: "i miss you, master..."