30 Minutes of Traveling: A Rabbit and A Writer

It’s all warm inside the big micro. I don’t know how but I know it’s going to take me home. Ah! such a lovely weather it is, only if it weren’t for the crowd inside the bus. Look at how many people are being cramped in, one stop after another.

Thankfully I’m safe here, cozy. I don’t like these eyes staring at me. Haven’t they seen my kind before?

Wait, hush! Someone is particularly starting at me. I know she’s a writer. I’m a rabbit, I should know these things. Super powers, you see.

Ah! the writer, those curious eyes hiding behind prescription glasses. I know she’s planning on writing about me now that my existence has become evident to her. But what she doesn’t know is that I have already written about her, inside my mind. Right now. Here, in these words.

Heavens! why can’t she write about the humans instead. But wait, I forgot that they re indeed extremely boring. You’d see a lot of them inside a micro bus, but a rabbit. Well well! It’s a treat I suppose.

My owner might be one of those good looking men in the world, but I’m cuter. And I know everyone around, especially the writer wants to pet me, run her hands through my white fluffy fur. But she won’t get to. No, she won’t. She’s far away from me.

Everyone is rather surprised at my calm nature. If the bus gets crowded, I hold on tightly to my owner’s arms. How wonderful it is to look at these humans wondering about us animals!

It’s getting really hot now. Some people get down, some people get in. My owner has been standing for a long time now! Poor creature! When will he get to sit and when will I have to stop worrying about accidentally falling off his strong arms?

The writer is still thinking about me. She thinks of me as a cute little being, but am I? I wonder! Oh wait the bus stops and hurray my owner finally gets the seat. I cling a little tighter as he sits down on the corner seat. Oh but now I can’t see the writer anymore. Maybe it’s good.

I’m going home.

I met a rabbit inside the micro bus and thought, what if the rabbit wanted to write about it, instead of me?