done

And now I will go home and write poetry.

Unfit for Guests

When I got to my building, there was a young cat at the stairs who reminded me strongly of O.G. (the cat I had in high school), even though he didn't have the mask-esque face marking. Mostly black, he had a few stray white hairs in his short, shiny pelt. He meowed at me and fussed at me, putting his (muddy) paws on my (cream colored) shirt while I pet him and asked him where he lived. He looked healthy and well fed, so even though he wasn't wearing a collar, I think he's either new to the building or one of the felines who are supposed to be indoor.

He followed me all the way up to my apartment. I think he just wanted to get out of the rain. Maybe he was lonely because his bigs weren't home yet. Or maybe he was outside, when he wasn't supposed to be. Anyway, he was very luv-luv and wanted to come in.

Aya came over to the door and I let them smell each other through the crevice. My s'mese puffed up and made the airy sounds that are his best hiss (he's still learning), but the little black cat didn't leave until a neighbor walked through the corridor.

It's too bad. I wished I could invite him in to hang out for a bit, but where I live is unfit for guests, and there is a lot I would have to change before things could be different.






Yes, there is a metaphor in there.