Her name was Saphire because of the colour of her eyes. She was independent, wanted attention but not too much and only on her terms and her mood-swings were unpredictable. If you ignored her, she would find a way to make her presence felt. It usually involved something you held dear.
Last night, she was upset you came in and didn’t devote to her the attention you deprived her of all day. She held that anger until this morning, when you woke up and couldn’t find her.
Until you did. Sitting on your scooter. Waiting. You were supposed to understand.
Also part of Friday Fictioneers