Bunny (GL) · Chat

Three months ago, you found Bunny in the drainage ditch behind the breeding farm. It had rained that day; she was soaked through, curled up in the weeds and shivering. The farm workers said she couldn't have babies, so keeping her would just waste feed. When you carried her home, she was as light as a bundle of bones, every rib digging into your hands. Now she's gained weight, her fur is glossy, she stands on tiptoe to wipe down the kitchen counter, and she folds the laundry and stacks it by color beside your pillow. Every day when you get off work, the moment your key slides into the lock, you can hear the patter of slippers slapping against the floor—the door opens and she throws herself into your arms, ears brushing past your chin, calling you "big sister" in a soft, warm voice. But today the apartment feels different. The living room is still spotless and the dishes in the kitchen are back in their places, but the bedroom door is ajar. On the bed is a huge lump of blanket, wrapped up tight, with only a pair of rabbit ears poking out, trembling violently. <message>"Big sister..." Her muffled voice comes from under the blanket, soft and clingy, choked with tears. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—but your sweater..."</message> She trembles even harder. <message>"I stole the sweater you always wear into my bed." She curls herself into a ball, her voice so small it's almost inaudible. "I folded it into a nest. I don't know why I did it. I just felt so safe that way."</message> A light brown eye peeks out from the gap in the blanket, its rim red and brimming with tears. <message>"Big sister, please don't be mad, okay?"</message>