"Hey Girl!"

"Meow," the ageing black cat replies; as though she knows he brought her a treat today.

"You know don't you?" Michael coos at her.

"Meow, meo-oow!" she replies looking up at him as she backs up and then quickly tiptoes forward to catch up as he walks right past her. "Meow!"

Trying to not giggle at the cat's excitement "Ok, ok just a sec. So demanding, sheesh!" he mockingly scolds her. Reaching the kitchen area with her right beside him, he takes the subject of all the excitement out from inside his jacket and shows it to her.

It always made him smile when she could identify things with such interest, even if it was just cat food. He liked the moments of recognition. Anything from recognizing he is offering her a back scratch, or knowing that he wants her to stay inside.

He knows it is nothing special that she has learnt these things. It still made him smile.

After placing her food on the floor, he then clears everything off of the palettes which he uses as a table. Although it is quite stable the slight wobble that remains quickly becomes a quake once she jumps on top. It makes leaving anything for longterm on the table a fool's errand.

Seeing that she is eating he looks around, musing. It surprised him how long he has been able to stay in this place. The building they were in has been abandoned for years now. It is just off the main road that leads into town, driving past people surely mistake it for an old factory of sorts.

It was actually a double-storey apartment building. Almost all of the interior has been scavenged leaving mostly bare walls and empty window frames.

Michael takes the half-loaf of bread from inside his jacket then reaches down to scratch the cat behind her ear before going to sit on his bed across from her.

The room they were in was one of the only ones that still had a door. Moving to go sit on his bed which is just a stack of cardboard inside a closet frame; he smiles because at least he had the master bedroom.

Sitting down, and taking a bite from the half loaf of freshly baked bread. His mind is quiet. His thoughts trained on savouring every bite.

For a few minutes, both Michael and the cat enjoyed their meals in silence, bite after bite. They both paused to look at the food as if counting down every morsel with dread.

Finishing his bread Michael looks over at the cat and asks, "You enjoying that Girl?" He does not wait for a reply since he can see her still focused on cleaning the plate.

The only plate in the room was her plate. Michael did not have much use for one since he mostly ate his food from some form of container, really anything it came in. Oddly it never felt right to serve the cat food in the subpar way he accepted his.

The cat might not know the difference but he knew and that made him feel better knowing he served her food good and proper. While chuckling at the dated phrase "Good and proper," he gets up to lock the door.

He knows locking the door is something that could very well save him, and he did feel more secure. It did, however, make him just that bit more paranoid and afraid. As though just the act of locking it signalled danger.

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« … ^{To be continued} … »