The succulent had been living its dream life. Perched on the edge of a 10th-floor balcony, it basked in warm sunlight each morning, absorbing every gentle ray through its plump leaves. From up there, it could see the sprawling city below, a patchwork of rooftops and roads, all while basking in its perfect spot. Its roots were snug in a small clay pot, the perfect amount of nutrient-rich soil wrapped around them like a cozy blanket. The human was attentive, always watering right when the succulent started to feel thirsty. Life was balanced, predictable, and full of light.
That all changed when the cat arrived. The succulent sensed a shift, an unsettling presence that disturbed the tranquility it had come to know.
The succulent first noticed the cat prowling around the balcony one sunny afternoon, whiskers twitching in curiosity. It was strange, an unpredictable creature with silent paws. The cat would sometimes press its face against the succulent’s leaves, its eyes narrowing as if deep in thought, or maybe just plotting something mischievous. The succulent, of course, had no way of knowing that the human had adopted this obnoxious creature, nor did it understand the chaos that the cat would inevitably bring. The cat seemed to take a perverse delight in disturbing the peace, batting at leaves and prowling around with that infuriating arrogance that only cats seem capable of, as if the world belonged solely to it.
One day, without warning, the cat sprang onto the windowsill, sending the succulent and its perfect life over the edge. Typical. The cat, with its reckless disregard and selfish nature, had ended everything the succulent had known. The small clay pot shattered upon impact, leaving the succulent sprawled in the dirt beneath a scruffy bush. Its roots, once held securely, were now exposed, and the succulent felt a pang of panic as its root ball was tossed out of its comfort zone. And where was the cat now? Probably lounging somewhere without a care in the world, completely unaware of the destruction it had caused.
The succulent lay beneath the bush, its leaves untouched by the sun. There was no more human with her watering can, no more warm balcony railing. Just the shade of the bush, the smell of damp earth, and the hard, unwelcoming soil below—a stark contrast to the succulent's once-perfect life. Thirst began to gnaw at the succulent. The memory of abundant water filled its thoughts. It needed to stretch out, to find a new source of moisture.
Slowly, the succulent let its roots unfurl, hesitating as it extended beyond the confines of its old root ball, unsure of what it might find in this unfamiliar ground. The earth resisted, clinging tightly in a way its nutrient-balanced potting mix never had. But the succulent pushed on, reaching downward and outward, its fine roots searching for water. The effort was exhausting, and days of struggle left the plant weary.
Then, one night, the sky opened up. Rain poured from above, drumming on leaves and splattering onto the ground, filling the air with the fresh scent of wet earth. It was nothing like the careful watering the human used to provide. It was wild, chaotic, relentless. The succulent drank deeply, its roots taking in every drop they could, the hard soil softening with the torrent.
The next morning, the sun broke through. The succulent stretched its leaves toward the warmth, its roots burrowing deeper into the softened ground, feeling a new resilience take hold. There was water, and there was sunlight. It wasn't the balcony anymore, but maybe, the succulent thought, as it unfurled a new leaf, this was okay too.