My parents died, not long ago, and I have been sent to live with my Aunt. I never liked the idea and, from what I got, she didn't like the idea either. Mom did always say to be grateful, so I had to make the best of living with Aunt, as she didn't have to take me in. But she did and I'll never know why.

When I arrived to her house, she went down a long list of rules but made it abundantly clear that her pets (and, by extension, her plants) meant more than me. It was my mistake to ask her why, to which she said, "Things like you take and give so little, while my little poopsies love me always." She also said she didn't know me very well, so she had more the reason to not regard me so highly. Of course, without her, I'd be homeless, even if I am second rate to them.

Aunt, I should note, was strange. She dressed as though she was mourning and she dressed like that often, throwing in few colors with her ensemble. Likewise, she never left without covering her head, accessorizing her short but thick hair, or somehow both. Weirdly still, she looked like one of her pets, which was a Dumbo rat, even more when she was squinting, however, her body was comparatively that of a mouse's (mice are stouter, which she is, along with being short). She spent most of her time alone and spent a lot of her time talking to her pets, so I guess she didn't like people much.

Of course, I would find out that there would be more to Aunt and it would be more strangeness.