A Green Blade

I got up from the bed and trotted over to the bright glass door by the balcony. On the floor sat a large clay pot with tall, slender leaves. I reached up and gently tapped one blade of grass with my paw. It swayed back and forth, springing right back into place. I sniffed the tip—it smelled fresh and earthy, not dry like fabric at all. I took a tiny nibble on the very edge of the blade. It was crisp, slightly bitter, and completely real.