The cat said, “Mrrroww.” Piers turned in the direction of the cat’s focused attention. Rather than the expected “out of order,” the elevator now sported a “repaired” sign. Who posted signs after repairing something? Why not simply remove the “out of order” notice?
No looking a gift elevator in the open doors. The doors swished shut the moment Piers stepped on. He nearly fell at the speed of the assent. He hadn’t even punched the button yet.
The elevator stopped abruptly, nearly unbalancing him again. All the while, he held tightly to the cat. The doors opened. Piers stuck his head out, shifting his gaze right and left. Same brown carpet, same cream-colored walls. Yup, the sixth floor.
“Now, we have to be quiet,” he instructed his guest. “My roommate gets drunk sometimes, which means she’ll be in a bad mood until at least noon.” If not later. Too bad Jess turned to her old friend the captain to help her through bad breakups instead of leaning on Piers.
Jess lay on the couch on her stomach, head turned to the side, and mouth hanging open. Her arm hung over into the floor. Odd to see tats of fairies on her arm after the weird thoughts earlier.
“Don’t worry, kitty,” Piers told the cat. “It’s not some vicious ogre, just my roommate Jess. She’s harmless. Mostly.”
The noises emanating from Jess’s mouth said otherwise, but snoring never truly hurt anyone, besides costing him a good night’s sleep on occasion.
Ogre. The man in the bathroom claimed to be an ogre. Vigorously shaking his head didn’t dislodge the memory from Piers’ mind.
The cat hopped down and strolled to the kitchen, tail high, once more displaying his assets. “Mrroww?”
“Oh, right. I promised you food.” Piers flipped on the kitchen light and dug through the cabinets. Hadn’t he spotted a can of tuna in there when they’d unpacked? He held up a can. “I don’t suppose you like potted meat, do you?”
The cat sneezed.
“Don’t blame you, buddy. I don’t much care for the rubber stuff either.” Had Jess bought the almost-meat? For all Piers knew, the dusty tin came with the rental. Okay, nothing cat-worthy in the cabinet. The overwhelming urge for eggs lured him to the refrigerator. “I don’t suppose you want eggs, do you?”
“Mrroww.”
Suddenly, Piers had an overwhelming craving for lightly scrambled eggs with cheese. Sounded good.
He filled a small bowl with water between stirring the eggs and extracted two more bowls from the cabinet.
“Mrrrowwwww!”
What? Oh! He rescued the eggs from the burner, stirred in some grated cheese, and divided the goods between the two bowls. Somehow the cat got the larger portion. Oh, well.
Piers sat at the table, raising a forkful of eggs to his mouth.
“Mrrrow?”
The cat sat at his feet. Somehow the cat’s bowl sat next to Piers’, though Piers swore he left the cat’s meal on the floor by the refrigerator.
“What?”
“Mrrrow?”
Piers pulled out a chair. He’d lost his mind for sure.
The cat hopped onto the chair, rested his paws on the table, and nibbled delicately at the eggs. How sad. Except for Jess, a cat provided the best company Piers had had as a dinner guest in their home.
His mind went back to dinner with Wycke, their walk, their dance, then… Nope. Not going there.
Once he and the cat finished eating, Piers put their bowls in the dishwasher. “Do you have to… umm… you know?”
The cat strolled away. Piers needed to buy a litter box if the cat decided to stay. A fluffy cat bed too. He showered, slipped on a pair of sweats, and yanked back his bedcovers.
He jumped back. “Yaaaah!”
“Mrrrooowwww.” The cat yawned, stretching from his spot in the middle of Piers’ bed.
“It’s like that, huh?” Piers sighed and crawled between the sheets. He’d seen“This isn’t my cat”videos on the internet, recalling the line,“Is this how you get a cat?”