Conversation In Paris
The black cat stared at the city below, her nostrils flaring. She inhaled the smells, and with them also the mood of the streets and their inhabitants.
Her ears twitched.
“You’ve come,” she said without turning. “I wasn’t sure you would.”
A white cat, his tail swirling, tiptoed in.
“Oh, dear, as if you didn’t know me. I wouldn’t miss this for anything! It’s Paris!”
She sighed. He’d never change. Or maybe he would, if it suited him. It was just the way he saw the world, it seemed. How much of it was part of his nature?
“Do you see them?” she said.
“Of course I do. Ah, I love them. How they live their little lives. They lack something, don’t you think?”
“They do?”
“Yes! A strong leadership! Mine!”
“Ah. So how come they’ve built that, for instance?”
She looked at the Tour Eiffel. The symbol of Paris shone bright in the night. A double beam of light from its top swept the clouds.
“Hm. I never said they weren’t ingenious, did I? Humans are magnificent creatures. They learn fast. Well, fast for us.”
She stirred and started walking. He followed suit, still talking.
“They still live for such a puny amount of time. In a sense, it amazes me that they can learn anything at all!”
“They work as a race. Not like us.”
“Us? We’re not even the same race,” he said.
“We’re individuals, above everything. We may have different origins, yet we’re all the same, deep inside. I am what I am. You are what you are. That cannot change.” Funny that, given her previous thoughts. But he need not know that.
He laughed.
“Ah, I don’t know about that. Change, change. Indeed we have changed! We wouldn’t be here, otherwise, would we?”
“Change is the province of humans,” she said. “Ours is permanence.”
“That way we rot,” he spat.
She stopped and sat. Before her, the Louvre pyramid lit the walls of the museum. Beyond, boats wove their way lazily in the Seine.
“Anyway,” he went on. “Did you want to meet to talk philosophy, my dear Bastet?”
“No, Loki. I want to warn you. Leave humans alone, or I’ll fight you.”
“You? The protector goddess of cats?”
“Don’t play with me, Loki. You may be a mocking god and call me Bastet, but I’m also Bast. Don’t doubt my warrior lineage or my power.”
The white cat laughed, and the sound wasn’t feline, or human. He dissolved in a fine mist, but his laughter hovered for quite some time.
After a long time, I’m back at writing.
It’s a long story. But what matters right now is that Google Plus, where I had my favourite writing prompt platform, is being closed. People are migrating, and I was lucky enough that I found this little group at MeWe, Wording Wednesday by Andy Brokaw, where we have a weekly prompt. This was my tale for the first prompt.
