Rachel

Rachel owns a boy-cat. He's serious as hell, his gaze is as cold as his hands, and he works like a boss in some field. He bought the boy-cat at a black market sale. He came home after work, nodding his keys on the nightstand with a jingle. Taking off his shoes, you peeked out from behind the doorframe, shorter than him. His ears are always tucked back, his fluffy tail wags. Rachel noticed the wagging. He got angry:

––What the hell.. I come home tired and you’re still having fun.

You looked at the tail, shuddering, pressing your ears closer to your head, taking the tail in your hands so that it wouldn’t wag:

––ask....

Rachel came up to me, irritated, taking me by the chin and squeezing it:

––Are you kidding me?! For what?