The Creature

         He was blind as a bat, and no one thought much of him. His looks were ordinary: bright grey eyes, short chestnut hair, small build, but with a beautiful smile. Though he did not possess the physical traits his society desired, he possessed something more; something quite rare.
         As he sat out in the damp grass under his favorite oak tree, listening and embracing the cool shade of leaves which protected him from the faint star above, his ears picked up a slight panting in the distance to his right. The bushy grass rustled underneath the disturbance, and much saliva seemed to spill from its exhausted mouth.
         A soft, thick fur brushed against his arm, to which he, in turn, reached out to pet the creature. His hands could sense warmth and perspiration reverberating off of the furry thing. Suddenly, a cold, sticky button hit his fingers, and a rough sand-like paper crossed the palm of his hand. The mammal then spun around one, two, three, four times until it finally laid itself next to him, its head on his lap, releasing a drained sigh as if it were long overdue.
         He smiled, realizing that his best friend in the whole world was with him on such a lonely earth; his companion who always managed to find him with its old vision and smell. And no matter what the weather was or what time of day it was, you would always see the creature searching for its silent playmate.