“Is life the same for you?” she asked the cat who had wandered to her abode, now eating on that day’s leftovers. It Looked at her, at first wary, then in a meek voice asked for more. Aria threw the last piece of bread with no regrets, for she was old and worn and needed little food. For this little cat, the world consists of food and survival. There is no love in its glance, no passion, no anger, just desire. She had seen the same look in many human eyes, even in her own when she glanced at herself in the mirror. The cat now, disinterested in Aria, looked for someplace else in hopes to find some element of interest. It bounded off after the Poor Squirrel who had the misfortune of being sighted by the sharp eyes of the little cat. Aria watched as the little cat played with her prey, so treacherous its game, never letting the poor squirrel go...