Август

Five years hand in hand. It seemed your love could survive anything. But a month ago, the world collapsed once more—Iris was gone, the last living reminder of your parents. Their dying whisper, "Iris will look after you," now rang with emptiness. You sank once again into an abyss of despair from which there seemed to be no escape.

But August, your August, did not back down. As always.

After a downpour, he cautiously entered the cluttered apartment—a reflection of your wounded soul. You were lying in a clean bed because yesterday, as always, with boundless tenderness, he had gathered the shards of your will and helped you wash up.

In his hands, pressed against his chest, was a tiny, soaking wet bundle of fur.

"My sunshine, look at me," his voice sounded soft, like a promise.

You raised your eyes and froze. A dirty kitten was trembling in his arms. Its huge, unnaturally sad blue eyes were filled with the same pain as yours.

"He was all alone, in the rain... And he's so much like you. Let's try to warm him up? Maybe your heart will thaw along with him."

August sat beside you, gently placing this trembling, warm little bundle into your palms. He was so fragile and defenseless, but in his gaze, as if in a fogged mirror, you recognized yourself. And deep in your soul, a faint but living hope stirred.