Join us for a weekly blog party in Six Sentence Stories, hosted by Denise and attended by some mighty fine, fun folk. Prompt word=LOAN. Read, write and come back for more SIX SENTENCE STORIES. (Link goes active Wed night).

He stares up at me, eyes pale green and wide, questioning my choice to sink into cushions,
The deep leaning comfort of an easy chair
Inside the home we share.
He’d rather go out and catch the fading Autumn sun, the flickering rasp of leaves in a breeze
That might be a bird, or maybe the disappearing twitch of squirrel tail.

My job is to sit on the cement stoop,
Bare feet cold, oversized sweatshirt barely providing coverage for my worn denim backside,
While he burrows under the shrubs
In case it’s not a bird or a squirrel…maybe something larger?

He considers.

I pull up the thick wool blanket, tap the warm splash of afternoon sun that’s gathered there,
Chirrup a request to loan me his heavy body,
His murmuration of purrs, to bless and heal what’s been ailing me.

With handsome grace he stretches,
Leaps and magnanimously pours himself over my shoulder,
The better to observe the Great Outdoors
Through the safety of triple-pane glass.

© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2026)