My Stupid Human

Chapter 2

Andras stood outside the office, his mind churning with the weight of his conversation with St. Nicholas. The whispers of the forest had grown faint, replaced by the heavy silence of the celestial hallways. He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms as he fought to keep his emotions in check.

Taking a deep breath, he focused on the familiar sensation of his teleportation magic. The ethereal light of the hall dimmed, and in a flash, he was gone.

He reappeared in his apartment, the air warm and slightly stale. The familiar surroundings did little to calm the storm within him. The space was modest but filled with personal touches: bookshelves overflowing with ancient tomes, a worn armchair by the window, and scattered trinkets from his various journeys.

Andras's eyes softened as he spotted Mr. Puff, his loyal orange cat, curled up on the couch. The cat's ears perked up at his arrival, and he lifted his head, blinking sleepily.

"Hey, Mr. Puff," Andras said, his voice a rare mixture of gentleness and frustration as he approached the couch. He sat down and reached out to scratch behind the cat's ears, eliciting a pleased purr. "Miss me?"

Mr. Puff stretched languidly before settling into Andras's lap. The rhythmic purring was soothing, a stark contrast to the turmoil within Andras's mind. He ran his fingers through the cat's fur, feeling a small measure of calm start to settle in.

"I met with St. Nicholas today," Andras began, speaking to the cat as if he were an old confidant. His voice was tight, barely restrained anger simmering beneath the surface. "He said a lot of things. Things about trust, my last... and my mother."

The mention of his mother brought a pang of sorrow, and Andras's hand stilled momentarily. Mr. Puff, sensing his distress, nuzzled closer, offering silent comfort.

"Do you remember her, Mr. Puff?" Andras asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "You were just a kitten when she... when we lost her."

The cat's green eyes met his, and for a moment, Andras could almost believe that Mr. Puff understood his pain. He resumed petting the cat, his thoughts drifting back to the times he had spent with his mother. Her laughter, her kindness, the way she had always seemed to know what to say to make everything better.

St. Nicholas's prohibition against their reunion felt like a cruel twist of fate. Andras knew the old man had his reasons, probably rooted in some greater good that Andras couldn't yet see. But it didn't make the ache any less real.

"He won't let me see her," Andras continued, his voice hardening with bitterness. "He thinks it's for the best, that it would only cause more pain. But how can it be worse than this emptiness?"

Mr. Puff meowed softly, a sound that Andras chose to interpret as agreement. He sighed, leaning back against the couch, his eyes drifting to the window. The city outside was alive with its usual bustle, a stark contrast to the stillness of his apartment.

"All I want is to see her again," he said, more to himself than to Mr. Puff. "To tell her everything I've been through, to hear her voice... just once more."

The cat's purring grew louder, a steady, comforting presence that helped to anchor Andras in the moment. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to imagine what it would be like to reunite with his mother, to feel her embrace and hear her reassuring words.

"I'll find a way," he murmured, his voice filled with a cold, determined edge. "Somehow, I'll find a way to see her again."

As Andras sat in the quiet of his apartment, the whispers of the forest seemed a distant memory. Here, with Mr. Puff by his side, he found a glimmer of solace. But his anger remained, a burning flame that fueled his resolve. He knew the path ahead would be fraught with challenges, but he welcomed them. He would defy the odds, challenge the prohibitions placed upon him, and seek the reunion his heart so desperately yearned for.

Mr. Puff nestled closer, his warmth a reminder that Andras was not entirely alone. And as he gazed out at the city, Andras made a silent vow to himself: to defy the odds, to challenge the prohibitions placed upon him, and to seek the reunion his heart so desperately yearned for.

"May the angels brace themselves," he whispered, his eyes darkening. "Because I won't stop until I've found her."