Collection Of One Shots About Love

Black Cat (4)

It the pitch of the night I heard foot steps. Bjorn must've come home after remembering that he'd left me in his room. That wasn't true though, because these steps were lighter and quicker

Click.

Creak.

Oh, what're you doing here? It wasn't Bjorn, so he must've forgotten. To be fair though, he didn't actually know I was in his room.

"Hello..." She whispered with her soft hands on the door as it was pushed open, and I was privileged with the sight of her blonde hair glowing in the dark. It always looked perfect.

How did you get in? I didn't think Bjorn would give her a key to his home. It was none of my buisness though. I'm a cat, not a watch dog, so I'll lay on his bed and watch.

"Karma... Good kitty." She was quiet and I didn't know why.

I realized soon enough that what she was doing was completely, absolutely, and utterly, my business.

She wanted to pick me up, and I saw her hesitate. Is she afraid of me?

"Don't hate me, kitty." She reached for me and I felt her small hands slide across my fur as they pulled me into a cradle within her embrace. There is something different about being held by a girl. Girls have very comfortable chests.

My small body was held carefully and stiffly with a touch of naivety in the way she dared to try and hold me with my belly exposed. Like a baby. I didn't quite hate it.

I'm guilty of a few things. Firstly, that I liked the clean scent she wore, soapy lavender. Second, I hadn't had a real bath yet after Bjorn took me. Obviously, rinsing in the sink while he wasn't around didn't count. Thirdly, I was excited.

I was also anxious. If only for a moment.

Light barely seeped in from the windows, but I noted that it was enough for even a human to see.

Cat's aren't supposed to have so many worries.

I'm a cat. It's not weird if I lean my head against her.

At the front door, as she held me, I wondered how she would open it. She almost wanted to use her foot, and I thank God that she didn't try it.

Well, she used one hand to turn the knob quickly, and at the same time uncomfortably raised her knee to support me.

Screw you Bjorn. I thought to myself as she walked outside in a thin blouse. She moved her legs quickly, probably to get out of the cold and into the car.

She pulled that knee-support thing again to open the door, and I was more than happy to hop in before her. Moving into the passenger seat as she plopped in and slammed her door, huffing out cold air as she started the car.

Hands on the wheel, as the engine sounded, and heat came in through the vents, she leaned her head down till her forehead was level with the dashboard. "I can't believe I stole his fucking cat."

It's not that bad, is it? I saw her face turn towards me.

"Why is it like this?" Her eyes had a sheen, and her lips became taunt. "Does he like you more than me?"

I was merely distracted by her beauty, that I couldn't tell that she wasn't aware of it herself.

"I should have..." Her lips and the words that left them shook. "Should've known."

"Even when sitting by his side I felt alone." And then she started breathing out loudly and shakily.

I'm a cat. What should I do?

I'll watch her cry and hope for something of value to escape her lips, a plead, a confession, or a way for me to give her what she needs.

I waited for her to calm and dry her eyes, even going so far as to not dig my nails into the leather seats. I watched her regain herself, not saying anything, and all because I was physically incapable of complex noises.

She sniffled, her eyes puffed up red and an ugly wet shade of black smeared her checks. "Karma. No one ever sticks around forever. That's why you're lucky that you'll die before them."

Lucky? I'd rather if I could watch Derek and Andrew die first. Hmm... Would she mind if I kill her brother? This is something I should consider carefully.

A sliver of guilt went a long way, past the bushes and through the trees, stopping right next to a half-dead pitbull puppy. You wouldn't know for sure, but would I feel worse to see her upset?

The passing streetlights shifted the shadows of her face, stained with dry black rivers that smudged, yet it did not one single thing to ruin her ability to reel me in. I didn't know a cat could be so enchanted by a human without a single reason as to why.

She glanced my way only a few times before we stopped, and I heard the car die down, and everything going back to silence. A little reluctant to move, opening the door with keys in hand, and getting out, I watched her move to the passenger side.

I could tell that she wanted to pick me up again, and I stilled with my round eyes anticipating every move of hers. I climbed up with my paws over her shoulder while she held me. The cold breeze once I was finally in her arms was like a reminder that caused me to lead my head into the crevice of her exposed neck.

She squeaked, or squealed, I don't know, it was just something a girl did when they were surprised or excited. "So sweet... Is that why he likes you so much?"

Hurry up. It's cold. My biggest saving grace as a cat, was that people only liked doing the high squeaky voice with dogs and babies.

My first feeling after being inside was empty, and cool, but the interior was all warm colors. It could have only been me though, because I always felt so cold and empty at Bjorn's.

"Ms. Loeffler. I see you've brought something home?" An old man, probably in his sixties, wearing striped dress shirt and tux vest that ended in an angled corner. The main feature that stood out to me was his curly white mustache and black curly eyebrows, and of course his thinning brushed-back white hair. Why did they have such an old and curly looking butler? Why were his eyebrows darker than the rest of him? Do the carpets match... and what do they match?

She nodded. "Yep, I did. Now, could you ask Earl to prepare me a salad? You know, with the special basil dressing? Chopped mushrooms in it?"

"Mao!" Me too! Me too! I haven't eaten since this morning.

"Hm. Oh, have him make something for Karma as well, like--I don't know--fish?" She was already on her way up the long staircase.

"Not so fast. Have you been crying?" He suddenly asked, and Evelyn froze.

"No." Forget about her forced deadpan tone that was a dead give away, her face was black with mascara!

"Okay. Remember to wash you're face before bed." I watched the old man continue about with no expression, except for the slight shake of his head.

Maybe I'll get to have that bath soon.