Midnight is lost. And Camila is freaking out.
She's had this cat for three years now but never had something like this happened. The fact that it was autumn and that temperatures were descending and that it rained almost everyday now didn't help.
"Fuck, where are you..." Camila frantically turns over some couch cushions, even though she knows that it's impossible that her cat is hiding beneath some couch cushions, which people had actually sat on. Midnight preferred more open spaces anyways. Maybe she should stop watching so many cartoons because, for fucks sake, she's a college grad and she should know that cats could never be underneath couch cushions.
But she's worried sick and looks anyway, because she'll never forgive herself if she didn't check every possible hiding place.
When she's done a thorough sweep of the kitchen and the living room, Camila heads upstairs. She checks everything, but still, Midnight remains nowhere to be found.
She isn't on Camila's bed. She isn't hiding beneath Camila's covers. She isn't perched on Camila's windowsill and she isn't looking out of Camila's window. She isn't sleeping in or on top of the pile of clothes in the corner of Camila's room. She isn't hiding in Camila's closet. She isn't biting down on Camila's favorite stuffed animals.
She's nowhere to be found.
Camila might have only had Midnight for three years, it sure felt like a hell of a lot longer. She and the cat are practically soulmates, even though Camila still gets angry with Midnight when she attacks Camila's stuffed tiger. The tiger is no match for Midnight, even though she's small and looks more like a kitten than a fully grown cat, but Camila loves that about her. Another thing about Midnight is that she never sleeps anywhere but Camila's bed. Which is why Camila was instantly alarmed when she woke up without the black feline laying next to her that morning.
"Midnight? You under here?" Camila asks as she lays on her stomach, peering into the darkness that is the space beneath her bed. She flails her arms around in an effort to feel, since her eyes aren't much help, but all she finds are mountains of dust and a couple of stray socks. "Dammit," she sighs as she sits up on the floor.
She had checked the whole bed area at least fourteen times now, and all the other areas in and around the house at least six, but Midnight was still lost.
Camila decides that there's only one other thing left to do.
•
The poster was an artistic masterpiece. Camila had printed a couple (200, give or take) posters with a selfie of herself and Midnight, some info about Midnight (favorite tv show, favorite songs to be petted to, favorite character on 'friends', that kind of thing), the time she'd gotten lost and their address.
•
It's a little past 6pm when the doorbell rings. Camila jumps at the shrill, harsh sound and makes a mental note to buy one of those doorbells that plays classical music. If someone would ask her if she had been sitting in the dark, clutching Midnight's favorite blanket and listening to sad songs about heartbreak, Camila would've denied any allegations, either mentioned or intended, and explained that her iPod was just on shuffle, that blanket just happened to be there and that she was actually just on her way to turn the lights on.
Camila doesn't really feel like answering the door right now, since she's sort of busy being sad over Midnight, but then she realizes that someone might have found her feline friend. She jumps up from the couch and runs to the door, bumping into a table on the way, which she hadn't seen since she hadn't turned the lights on (she had just been on her way to do that, though).
