She was sitting, so peaceful, on the grass, under the tree. She was holding something in the palm of her hand. Gentle. “What do you have?” I asked. She held it up. Something shifted. “My chameleon,” she answered. “His name is Cameron.” I held back both the dogs I was walking. They couldn’t be bothered, but still. Better to be careful. “Does he change color?” I asked. She nodded. “But only green.” I nodded. “Green is good. Green is beautiful,” I answered. She nodded again. “Yep.”

07/02/2017@dogtraxmychamelon, smallstorysmallstories