Cat Tale

“I really must leave now,” she whispered.

“Please don’t go,” he croaked back.

It had already been three hours. His tears had been depleted. His voice was hoarse from denial, anger and rejected compromise. Now, his words insisted but his shoulders slumped, his head drooped, and his eyes stared at the carpet.

“Goodbye,” she said. He sat there, fixated on the blue carpet. Motionless to the sounds of his door closing and steps fading away.

As she slipped through the damp murk of freshly rained city, pangs of guilt started to occupy her conscience like blooms of paint on canvas. She hoped he could finally find it within himself to forgive her one day, as she would come to forgive him. The road ahead would be tumultuous, and it was all too easy for spite and fear to fester and give seed to hatred.

Had she been a faithful companion? Guardian? Tutor? Lover? Only time would tell. For now, her duty had ended, and his journey had begun.

She stopped in front of a particularly obtuse puddle situated in the back end of a small alleyway off the crossroads. Her ears perked, trying to pinpoint the presence of people within the vicinity. Silence.

Turning her attention back to the puddle, she smiled at her reflection. Short black hair that flowed to the neck, ocean blue eyes that rested softly above shy dimples. Thin lips that completed a perfectly heart-shape face and slender neck. She already missed this.

With one outstretched hand, she gently tapped the puddle, creating a ripple, before sinking her hand into the water. Then, she sunk her arm, then her face and body. Her legs were the last to go. The puddle was bottomless and all-consuming.

A short stillness would follow before out of the puddle burst a wet house cat with short black fur. The cat would shake itself off, melding into the city streets, never to be seen again.

He would never solve the mystery of her disappearance, but she would always be there when he needed. Watching through his window with ocean blue eyes.