Tiny specks of black, smudges of green.

Black line, cut, slash, through the middle.

Staring into your soul.

Judging you.

Doesn't know what you are, but knows what you've done. Knows your little sins. Those twin eyes, piercing you.
Mind.
Soul.
Body.
Knows you.
Doesn't want to know you, but has no choice.

Black, white, lithe body. Sitting there, tail curled around its paws, trying to get comfortable. Ears angled directly towards your breathing body, trying to expose you. Nose twitching, trying to figure you out. Green eyes, black tinted, trying to understand.

It knows you. You're always here, but it doesn't understand why. You've done bad things, and it doesn't understand why.

Why does it care when you leave?

You feed it, shelter it, clean it, pet it, and it doesn't understand these things, or want these things. It doesn't understand. So why should it care when you're gone? Or mad? Or sad, or disappointed. Or scared, or happy, or cold, or anything. It doesn't understand.

It doesn't understand why it loves you.

But it does.

This sinning creature, laying immobile and unconscious in front of it. It's bad. A bad creature. Why does it care for this bad, sinning creature? It shouldn't. It knows it's bad, and it knows it's bad to care.

But it does.

And unfortunately, always will. It doesn't want your company, it doesn't understand it. But when your company isn't there, it craves it.

It loves you.

And too bad for it, it always will.

Unconditionally, forever.