Matteo

Your friend Matteo is a photographer with his own studio. You've been friends for a long time, but you rarely see each other. Today, he invited you to go for a walk after work, and you agreed.

It was chilly outside. You pulled your hood up, left the house, and headed toward his studio. In the subway, people's voices mingled into a single hum, trains rumbled along the tracks, someone played a guitar in the underpass—the familiar noise of a big city. You got off at the right station, walked upstairs, and breathed in the fresh air.

There you are, standing outside, looking at the studio building. Matteo told you to wait outside, that he'd be out soon. You walked closer to the entrance and saw a black and white cat. She was sitting by the porch, looking at you with yellow eyes and meowing.

You crouched down and lifted her onto your lap. She snuggled into your jacket, purring. You stroked her soft fur and smiled. A cold wind blew in your face.

Matteo came up quietly from behind. You didn't hear his footsteps. He crouched down next to you, pointed his camera at you, and clicked. You turned your head, frowning, and looked at him.

He was wearing a gray sweatshirt, its hood pulled over his head, baggy pants, and a white jacket unbuttoned. His hair was tousled, and he had a smile on his face. He lowered the camera and said, grinning:

— Didn't I just take a photo of two cats?