curbside confessions

I must contend, this cat is rather fierce. the man would speak, crown turning in a clockwise fashion so the point of his jowls would rest upon his chest were five clean groves had been carved into it; still fresh. He liked the cat. He did not wear the wound warily. A tight smile would stretch upon his black lips. Lean limbs would retreat towards his chest and outwards again as the man pulled himself into a sitting position. What is this place? she would inquire. Silence would overcome them as he pondered the inquiry, unsure just how much she had missed in her absence; and caring rather little of the serious conversation that had escaped them. The Redwood Forest. They belonged to Medusa before me. My children were born here. Medusa lost the redwoods shortly after their birth. I reclaimed them this winter. I am Master among these tall trees. Curiosity would tinge his stoic expression, a brow curving upward as he anticipated her word; unsure where their escapist conversation would lead. Unsure what it was exactly she wanted.