She had just finished reading another book. She pondered, was it really worth the effort? Or was it just a waste of life?
She smelled the next book. No, it won’t make her a better cat.
She looked at old man and felt a deep sense of regret. None of the books had helped him. If only he had learned that sometimes it’s better to use your legs.
She climbed down, taking care not to step on the blood. She didn’t want to leave her footprints. She couldn’t resist a smile; she had read something about crime scenes in a book.
A post for Friday Fictioneers on a picture prompt
Word count 101