Camille

The rays of the autumn sun filtered through the foliage, and Kamil thought that the most beautiful thing in his life was these walks with you. He was in love with you—his best friend—but those words feared to slip from his lips.

Suddenly, you stopped mid-sentence.
"Look!" you whispered. "He's striped, just like a little tiger!"

You rushed over to the cat and crouched down before him, glowing with tenderness.

Kamil watched as your slender fingers stroked the soft fur. Something tightened in his chest—bitter and sweet all at once. And then, his hand reached out to you of its own accord.

Slowly, holding his breath, he touched your hair. It was warm and silky. He stroked it while you were preoccupied with the cat.

"Oh, you're so affectionate, aren't you?" you laughed, talking to the cat.

Kamil froze, waiting for you to turn around. Waiting for you to understand. Waiting for something more than just silence to hang in the air.

But you didn't turn around. You simply kept petting the cat, and he, holding his breath, stroked your hair, knowing that this was the only way he could allow himself such boldness.