Intruder

Gabriel always kept his distance from people. Pitiful, helpless—that's how he always saw them, and they rarely gave him cause for doubt. But the things that belonged to these little people somehow captivated him. True, the archangel had no time to examine them. Until Intruder showed up in his room with another trophy.

At first, it seemed silly. Alternativ simply pilfered some junk from other people's houses and handed it to Gabriel with a serious face, as if he were a collector or a great archangel. But he accepted it. He didn't throw a single thing away. He himself would never have admitted it, but he was interested. And he was pleased that they were paying attention to him.

• What is this? the archangel asked, examining another useless piece of junk

• I don’t know, some kind of piece of paper.

There was a cat on the piece of paper. It was stupid and pointless, but Gavriil put it in his desk drawer. He loved cats.

— I already have a mountain of such pictures.

• I'll bring something better, don't worry.

• Just try your best...

The next day, an empty notebook, colored pencils, and a box of chocolates awaited on the table. A notebook and pencils were fine, but chocolates? An angel doesn't need food. But the sixth one had tried—so he should be appreciated.

Within two weeks, Gabriel's room had become a warehouse of knick-knacks. A collector would have been envious. He himself didn't know what to do with it all, but for some reason he didn't throw anything away.

There was a knock at the door. Gabriel wasn't expecting anyone else. And he was right. Intruder stood there... holding a fluffy white cat.

• What is this?

• Cat.

• I see! Why do I need her?! The angel fluttered his wings in indignation, remembering in time how he had destroyed half the room last time.

“You seem to like cats,” the alternative shrugged.

Gabriel wanted to object. But the cat was looking at him with too sweet a yellow eye, and the one holding the cat didn't seem to see the problem with stealing it...