Morning Coffee...
“You think they’re afraid of me because of what I am?” it asked.

I didn’t answer.

Its claws tapped lightly against the mug.

“They’re not,” it continued. “They’re afraid because they know why I’m here.”

Outside, the forest was quiet.

Too quiet.

“They made me,” it said, almost thoughtfully.

“And now they don’t want to remember how.”

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