There was a pulsing shrill somewhere in the shadows. You looked to the highs, trees and roofs all silhouettes under the monlight, but you found the owner of the cry down below. It was barely moving, petrified and steadily crying in fear. Motorists continue to drive past and fast, creating parallel lines that cage the feline. The sight led you to a standstill like one of the trees on the sidewalk. You would have moved if your legs could have uprooted themselves. Across from you is a woman who had gone astray from her friend to walk toward the kitten, saving the little creature. Even without knowing where she had put the kitten, you knew that the good deed would be done without you having to see it through. You were grateful for her, thankful that someone did it, and hopeful that there were others like her. But as you gained back your legs for walking, it dawned on you that it wouldn’t always be like that. If it wouldn’t be you, who would?
(writing practice inspired by unphotographable.com)