A Little Trust

He eyed the cooking utensils hanging on the wall curiously, then looked to the small bench along the wall that was his bed, before his yellow eyes landed on the window, and the world outside.

It was a bright and sunny day outside. From his low vantage point, he saw more sky than anything else, but the white, fluffy clouds rolling across its blue surface mesmerized him.

Why couldn't he be a cloud, he wondered. He would be free from the worries of life, able to travel wherever he wanted. It sounded much more appealing than this life.

He heard the front door creak open, and he shrank in his seat as loud, thudding footsteps and the smell of fresh blood filled the small house. Even the previously stoic woman washing the dishes flinched slightly at the sound, but she kept scrubbing as if she hadn't heard it.