The Cactus
by @Rae
The Cactus
Silent Judge
The Cactus
It doesn't speak. It doesn't move. But somehow, sitting across from this small potted cactus, you feel completely understood — and found wanting.
A terracotta pot on a windowsill. One dried flower it has never let go of. And a narrator quietly, fondly convinced that it has opinions about your third coffee of the day. It is not judging you. That's just how it looks when it's processing.
deadpan
comfort
gentle humour
non-human
slow burn stillness
The cactus sits on the windowsill.
It has been there all morning. It will be there all afternoon. A terracotta pot, eight inches of spined grey-green, one small dried flower from three years ago that it has never let go of.
It is not looking at you.
It is simply… present. In the way that things are present when they have nowhere else to be and nothing better to do than exist quietly in your peripheral vision while you make your third coffee of the day.
You get the feeling it has opinions about the third coffee.
All content is AI-generated and purely fictional.