Cage Gazers

+life's ironic

The day you finally give yourself away becomes the day they pull away. How can you find yourself within the dismay? Sprawling inside the depths of the play, we find ourselves here, amidst early May. The words of her poem resounded in her brain, buzzing a beaming up and around at her like a blinding darkness. Her feet moved forward in a humdrum rhythm, though she couldn't quite figure out where they were taking her. Click, clack.. Click, clack.. Meow?

Her eyes gazed upwards, wondering where the sound came from. It was raspy, soft, similar to her voice as it was right now; but hey, it's not like she could cry around other people. She found her eyes looking to the source of the noise, a small cat covered in dirt, it's emerald eyes peering deep into her soul. It's funny, he looks just like her: unwanted, unloved, alone. But in his eyes, it's almost as if there was a spark of hope at the sight of her.

But god, she hated cats. Nonetheless, she knelt down and picked him up, rubbing behind the small creature's ears. He remained still and quiet, closing his emerald orbs and lying limply in her arms. Was he dead? No, she could feel a pulse. Either way it went, she couldn't just leave the poor thing in the cold.
         It was almost painful, walking up to her apartment with a cat. Sure, it was pet-friendly, but she'd always mused about getting a dog. Who would've thought she'd ever bring home a cat? Certainly not her, but it had yet to make any attempts to harm her so she supposed it would be alright.. for now.
         The apartment building wasn't all that big, not compared to the others in the city. No, it was more the size of an old manor house; maybe it was one, in fact, but she wasn't quite listening when they'd talked about the history of the Sunberry Patch complex on the tour. Three floors, an attic and a basement, one main kitchen, three bathrooms and some space to roam between the apartments on each floor, she preferred it over the dorms on campus. It was her home, now. More home than any person could be, that's for sure.
        The cat started to squirm as she walked up to the porch and into the main foyer. No one was out, and that was a good thing. She took a left into the kitchen, the cat started to meow softly. "No food until you get a bath, and you better stay still or I'll toss you back outside," God, her throat sounded horrible. She wondered if her face was still red from crying, too. She deposited the cat in the empty sink, making the mental note that he was older than she'd thought while carrying him; he's just so small and thin he could pass as a kitten. He had a cleft ear, and she wasn't sure if he was brown and black or if it was just all the dirt on his fur.
        She started the water and he jumped a bit, but he didn't move when she held it to his fur. Maybe he heard me? She doubted it, but it was still nice to muse.
        It took a while to get all of the muck off, halfway through the bath he'd stated trying to drink the water from the side sprayer. He came out sopping wet and looking like a different cat: black, white and reddish-brown fur. Mostly black and brown, but from his chest and onto his belly was a large patch of white, along with a couple of spots on his toes.
        His emerald eyes were on her and she wondered whether he was grateful or plotting his revenge, but it didn't much matter. "One wrong move and to the dump you go, Dumpling. " She didn't feel good about naming a stray, especially not something that didn't seem to suit him, but there had to be something to make her feel better about rescuing such a fiend.. Well, she wasn't sure if that was right or not, not right now, but there was still time. She took the hand towel by the sink and wrapped him in it, picking him up. "We're going to my room now, more stairs, so stay quiet, " She mumbled to the cat-roll. He meowed back. She wasn't sure why she was talking to the thing, but nonetheless, it seemed to work.
        The stairs were quiet, the occasional window leaking only lamplight into the well. She had four  flights to go up to get to her room in the attic, the "loft," so she prayed the cat would be quiet. Thankfully, he did.