Pig

A scrap of paper resembles a small pig with a stunted, stumpy tail, abbreviated legs and two tiny, little distinct eyes looking straight upwards. Beyond that, as you’d expect, a quite distinct snout. This scarcely evident pig subsists in a flat state beneath the looping immensity of my tilted back, laptop screen. The pig cannot run off. It is stranded and utterly naked against the brown of the table. Cables bend and twine on either side. How it managed to take convincing pig-like shape is an accident of the clouds and my extreme youth. I am breeding pigs. Just the one. Let it try to run away. Let it try to escape beyond the horizon of ordered things. I have only to tilt the monitor forward to see it again. I would butcher it if I had the heart and means, but instead I simply gaze at it with dreamy eyes. It is good to keep animals. It lends me some partial humanity. It makes me happy and whole.