Plant was tired of getting chewed on by the goddamned cat. All plant did, all plant did, all day (seemingly literally) was sit in the corner to be chewed on by the cat. M..Molly? Moxie? Whatever. Plant didn’t give a care. Plant was tired of being chewed on, and above all, Plant was just tired. How long had Plant been here? She thought on it for a few moments, reflecting on all of her days sitting in her cozy cabana of a sunbaked corner. She thought of the few seconds every day that her owner, The Brunette Woman, would come by with a mason jar of liquid and pour it on her roots. The Brunette Woman. Goddess, as far as plant was concerned. The very sun itself was The Brunette Woman’s smile, her soothing liquid in the queer glass jar being her rays. Well. Aside from the actual sun, of course. Plant lived day in and day out for The Brunette Woman’s passing glances and occasional dustings. From the time she was the sproutiest of sprouts, Plant could recall the caress from The Brunette Woman’s soft and dirty hands as The Woman pressed soil, like a fleece blanket, warming and comforting the growing legs and roots Plant had sprung just earlier that week. It seemed ages ago now. Years. Plant and The Woman were on their second cat together. Fourth male. This one was slightly shorter but with a stronger jaw than the last. Plant didn’t care for any of them. Something about them that Plant couldn’t quite place her apex on. It wasn’t any matter, not anymore. Today Plant was tired. More tired than she had ever felt. Her petioles were feeling weaker, the margins on the blades of her leaves were becoming brittle. Plant was currently too faint to feel trepidation at her discomfort.