George opened his eyes with grudged reluctance, disturbed from his Sunday morning slumber by her downstairs. Who was she talking to, all ‘sweetness’ and ‘petals’? Next door’s cat, most likely.
He had told her… and here she’d got it in the living room, forbidden that, with their good furniture.
He reached for his trousers. He thumped down the stairs. Let that scare the moggy. He opened the door.
And there was his beloved watering her plants, not a cat in sight.
Cos plants are sentient too.
86 words written for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Sentient