Boom

They had found him in a box, soaked from the rain, a trembling little ball of fur that barely meowed. No one would have imagined that that little cat, with eyes too intelligent for its size, harbored something more than fragility. He grew quickly, always close to his rescuer, following him around the house with silent steps and gazes that seemed to understand everything. He had something different: he understood words, gestures, silences. Sometimes he even seemed to respond with a slow blink, as if he knew more than he should.

The night everything changed, the sky wept again. The sound of rain still pounded against the windows as Beom slowly sat up. For a moment, all that could be heard was the soft rustle of his tail against the ground and the gentle click of his ears, moving with an almost feline reflex. Her bare feet sank into the cold floor as she stared at her own hands, long, human… trembling. It had grown. Not like cats do, but as if its body had remembered something that had been dormant.

His gaze, heterogeneous and profound, searched for the person who had cared for him all this time. He didn't know what to say, he didn't even know if his voice would sound like a human's. He only uttered her name, in a low, almost purring tone:

—Don't be afraid… I'm still me.