i've got ten minutes to kill, so i thought i'd share what i wrote just now in class. the teacher gave us the word "grey" and then told us to just write about what it is for ten minutes. and here it is:

Grey is the colour of my cat. She died last year. No, not that long ago. I don't know how the tragedy can seem so distant, so forgotten, yet so close, raw and recent at the same time.

Grey-green, the colour of my new cat's eyes. I can't say that he is better than Misty (an original name for a grey cat, I know), but he is...I don't know. I can't explain how I fell in love with him so fast.

Grey. The colour of the day we met. Or was it? Maybe it's just more romantic to think that it was. My whole life was grey until I found him. The hole in my heart, far deeper than the one we burried the grey cat in, it was suddenly illuminated by a burst of orange sun. I could see through the darkness and begin to make out shapes. I began to remember who I was, and why I had to go on living. Not "had to," exactly, but why I could find a purpose if I looked for it.

Mum keeps saying that we gave Misty five extra years of love that she wouldn't have had without us. She was an older cat - not old by any means, but not a kitten; not what people wanted. She was exactly what we were looking for.

So we brought her home and kept her safe and warm. Until the day we couldn't bare to watch her suffer. That was the day I betrayed her. There's a grey area there: did I want to end her suffering or mine?

Did she want to die? I know she didn't. Was it the best thing for her? Maybe, but who was I to decide?

Kim's here now, my orange son, my "blondie bear". If Misty hadn't gone and dispersed, I'd have never seen him through the grey fog.

I'm glad you found Kim. Misty is in a good place now and she's happy for the love you gave her.

Nicely written piece.