A slow burn romance story illustrating the collision of two different worlds.
In the enchanting world of "Midnight Muse," bubbly and innocent Aurelia, a talented painter with an affinity for pastel dreams, finds herself colliding with the rugged an...
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AURELIA
"Cheese puff! Don't go in there, you'll hurt yourself," I warn my orange cat that was very lard like. I don't mind that he's a chunky kitty. In fact, I find it rather endearing with the way his tummy wiggles from side to side when he walks.
I am basking in my solitude without the companionship of anyone or anything.
My cat, Cheese puff, has taken up bird watching, meaning he no longer sits on the edge of my bed to listen to me ask him questions that he certainly does not have an answer for.
Life would be simple if I could communicate with the feline, I'm sure he'd contribute meaningful commentary to my incessant word vomit.
Or maybe he'd tell me to shut my girl mouth and lay under the rain.
He starts baking biscuits on my tummy, making me giggle at the ticklish sensation.
I was laying on a few thick blankets that I had placed on the hardwood floor of my apartment and because it was winter, I couldn't help but shiver at the condition of my flat.
The rent was rather expensive and I am slowly running out of the money I had saved up, meaning that I will eventually have to move back home with papa.
The grocery store I work at doesn't pay me enough to be able to take care of myself so I will have to find a place to work at back home while I gather more experience.
The thought made tears spring to my eyes as I slowly pet Cheese puff, the sweater that I knit for him covering most of his fur.
Just because I'm cold doesn't mean he has to be too.
I ran away from home a year ago when I was eighteen after having saved money for three years.
Unfortunately for me, papa had found part of my savings and burned it in front of me, telling me that I would never make it out of our town.
I think he was just scared of being alone and wanted me to take care of him. The guilt of leaving has been eating at me every single day— much like a virus that never goes away.
The infectious disease had taken up space inside of me, burrowing a space in my forefront of my mind that limited the way I could function on a daily basis.
Some days the anxiety is so awful that I can't move from the blankets on the ground, I'm afraid that something terrible will happen to me.
It sounds silly but anxiety is incredibly difficult to control.
"We'll be okay, Mister Puff. I'll knit you more sweaters and maybe some socks so I can keep your paws warm. You work so hard at the bakery, I have to guard those little mittens of yours!" My grumpy cat slowly blinks at me as he clocks out of his shift at the bakery and settles for sitting atop me, loud purrs radiating from his loaf form.
