A small black cat named Midnight lay still on a rain-soaked road. Normally, she was a survivor, a street cat used to navigating the city’s dangers.
But that night, a speeding car had struck her, leaving her broken and helpless. The driver, unaware of the damage done, continued on, leaving Midnight alone in the storm.
Midnight’s body was twisted, and she was in intense pain, unable to cry out. The cold, wet asphalt seeped into her fur as she struggled to breathe.
Her eyes, filled with agony, stared at the dark sky. The sounds of the city, the distant cars and warm homes, seemed far away. Her silent screams were lost in the night.
Midnight’s consciousness faded. She remembered moments of her life: running freely through the streets, a brief, kind touch from a human.
But the pain was overwhelming. Just as she slipped away, another car approached. The driver saw her, but it was too late. Midnight was gone.
The driver, filled with sadness, gently placed Midnight’s body in a box lined with cloth, offering a silent apology. Midnight’s suffering, though unheard by the world, left a lasting impression.
