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The (Black Smoke)*Working Title*
Chapter 1: "It’s Always Greener..."

Chapter 1: "It’s Always Greener..."

On the other side, they say, it’s always greener. But if you ask me, it’s just slightly gray. We’re supposed to find the bright side of things, sure life can be bright but I how bright can be something you can't predict  

For some people, sure, it is. But for us? I think we’re stuck on the simple life. We did not choose it, if anything it chose us, What do you think?

A sharp breath comes from the black-and-white cat lying next to me, his eyes full of more hope than anyone should ever have. It tries to purr, but it comes out as a strained, high-pitched screech.

I guess for you, every day you’re alive is a little greener. I can't even bear the sight of you. I’m not sure why they gave you to me. They say it’s to teach me responsibility,

but I’m already taking care of Grandpa’s farm. He’s got animals. I don’t need some damn cat borrowing his borrowed time.

The cat lets out another faint screech.

I think you would have a much better life with mom and dad not with me,  

How much better could my life be if they did not make me move, you think I want to live here. what choice did I have they basically kicked me out, I defiantly don't want to take care of a sickly cat, gritting my teeth as I say it.

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I have friends, I just graduated I do not even get a chance to pick my life. How could this be good for me that is what they kept saying I will understand when I am older well I understand now that this is just unfair. 

the cat walks up to me laying his head on my lap, I raise my hand to strike the cat, but I see this pitiful creature and put my hand down on his side. 

they did not even give you a name they left it up to me well We’ve gotta name you something. You can’t just be ‘cat,’ right?. It’s gotta have meaning, I think it should at least. You’re my first pet.

I look down at its soft fur, when my parents brought you home you were really bad looking how did your fur stay so god damm soft. How about... Fluffy?

The cat screeches again, clearly not a fan.

You don't like that one, huh? Well, you wheeze a lot. How about Wheezey?

The cat bites my hand, his fangs tickle my hand. He couldn't even break the skin if he tried. OW! Fine, fine. Let’s see... When my parents found you, you were beat up pretty bad. What about... Scratch?

The cat looks up at me with wide eyes, then licks my hand, as if agreeing. Scratch it is.

We’re almost there. Just a few more miles, Scratch. Then we can see our new home.

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