𝙹𝚄𝙽𝙺𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳༉‧₊˚. ᴄʜʀɪꜱ ᴄᴏʀɴᴇʟʟ

𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻.

CHRIS AND DELIAS DAY CONTINUED,
now done with breakfast, Delia brought Chris to a large thrift store, insisting he needed more furniture in the apartment besides the old couch and wobbly barstools at the breakfast bar.

"A bedside table would be nice; your room is bare."

"At least I have a bed frame." He replied as Delia spotted another particularly ugly piece of furniture.

"At least my room doesn't look like a prison cell." She said back, sitting on the couch, which, in Chris' opinion, was even worse than the current couch in the apartment.

"It doesn't look like a prison cell."

"It doesn't not look like a prison cell." She grinned, standing up. They continued exploring the store, eventually leaving with nothing except a dirty look from the cashier.

At the next store, Chris bought a few items to appease Delia, eventually agreeing that their apartment was obsolete besides the music paraphernalia in every corner.

They walked the few blocks back to their building as it started to rain again, running the last block back as it came down harder. The afternoon was spent inside, hoping the downpour would end soon and lounging on the couch, alternating between watching TV and playing guitar.

༺✧༻

Delia waited under the awning as the rain persisted; she loved Seattle's climate, more so than her many other hometowns- but winter was practically over, and the weather was getting old.

She had ordered pizza, and not wanting the delivery driver to have to walk up five flights, she waited out front, watching the rain fall onto the street.

Something distracted her from the street and people watching, a high-pitched meow coming from below. Delia hesitated for a moment, wondering if her ears deceived her. She decided to inspect the meowing, stepping off the stoop and walking towards the alley beside the building.

The alley was trashed, with wind and rain blowing various trash cans over. Delia followed the noise, leading her to an overturned box. Under it was a tiny brown kitten, surprisingly dry for the circumstances. Delia's eyes widened, forgetting about the anti-pet policy and remembering that finding a kitten was every child's dream, and even though she was twenty-three, it was now her dream as well.

She wasn't all that spiritual, but as she carefully stuffed the green-eyed cat into her hoodie, she wondered if this was a sign. A sign about what, she didn't know.

Her train of thought was interrupted as the pizza arrived, hurriedly paying as she brought the kitten along with the pizzas inside.

Chris was on the phone when she entered, wrapped up in a conversation as Delia set the pizza down on the breakfast bar, then took the kitten out of her hoodie and placed him on top of the warm pizza box, where he quickly relaxed.

Delia attempted to clean off the kitten's fur as Chris was still on the phone, turned away from the kitchen, and oblivious to what was happening in his home.

The kitten let out a loud, squeaky meow just as Chris walked into the kitchen, not allowing Delia to hide him somehow.

"Look who I found." Delia looked at him expectantly, holding the kitten.