The slow thrum of the rain outside pulled her from her thoughts.
She stared at the glass shielding her from the dark sky, droplets of water slipping down it, splintering the view of the sidewalk below.
She had took up home at the library on campus today, not to get work done, but rather to avoid her cat. Her laptop sat before her, a countless number of tabs open that required her attention, but yet she could not provide any. It was a Wednesday, half way through the week on a gloomy summers day, and yet she could not pay any mind to the work that begged her for recognition.
As she looked out the window and saw the dark green grass being pelted by rain drops, she thought of her cat. His green eyes demanding her to do something, be something she wasn't. She couldn't bear to exist under his scrutiny any longer, which had prompted her to go to the library.
The library was cold, silent, and unnerving, which was the perfect opposite to her warm and inviting bed that sat at home. She had taken residence in the farthest wing, filled with medical and science journals, which no one had any need for anymore now that everything had been published online. The library was mostly unoccupied for the summer, besides the occasional librarian pushing a cart of books and returning them to their homes. Since no one used the journals, the librarian never made their way to the farthest wing.
The rain splashed harder against the window. She sighed and turned back to her laptop. Emails filled her inbox, and she had no motivation to acknowledge them. People wanted things from her, wanted to fill her time with mundane tasks and new responsibilities. She opened a new tab, which contained an online order confirmation of new toys and food for her cat. She shivered as she thought of her cats disdain for the objects she had already given him, which he had then promptly ignored. He just stared at her, expecting something better, expecting something more from her. She couldn't provide it.
She did love her cat, but he could not be loved. She had had him for a long time, and for as long as she could remember, he spent most of his days lounging at the window, staring out at the surrounding city, and occasionally at her. She hated that part.
The rain continued to thrash against the windows, and she continued to be lost in thought, unable to complete any work. Her laptop told her it was time to go home, so she loaded her laptop into her bag and began to walk through the quiet and frigid library to the exit.
As she walked, she stopped at the sight of the librarian. They pushed no cart today, but rather held in their hand a single journal. From the looks of it, it appeared to be a medical journal. Journal of Neuropsychology, the cover read.
She couldn't remember how long it had been since she had seen someone else in this part of the library, especially to return a journal. No one ever checked out a journal anymore. The librarian lifted it over their head and returned it to the shelf of journals before walking back to the heart of the library.
She stood motionless for a moment, contemplating the action she had just seen. Before she knew it, she walked over to the journal and pulled it from it's home. It was the only journal that wasn't covered in dust. She flipped it over to read the cover again: Journal of Neuropsychology.
Before she knew what she was doing, she stowed it in her bag. Without consulting the check out station, she exited the library and started her walk home. She did not think they would miss one journal from the section no one ever frequented.
Before long, she found herself at her apartment building, with a package at her door step. It was the cat toys and food she had ordered. She sucked in a breath of air before grabbing it and unlocking her door. The warmth of her apartment filled her and offered her just a moment of joy before she walked in to see her cat sitting on the floor, waiting for her. His green eyes bore into her soul, sucking the air from her and clamping down on her chest.
He watched her as she set down her bag and the package before filling up his water dish with cold, clean water. She grabbed his food bowl, which was full, as it was every day, and dumped it's contents into the trash before filling it up with the fresh food.
She then began to unbox the cat toys she had ordered. As she unwrapped each one from their packaging, she set it in front of her cat. He sniffed at each, seemingly giving it one second of thought, and then continued staring at her. Once she had unwrapped them all for him to no avail, she sighed and avoided his gaze. She couldn't look at his green eyes.
Tears began rolling down her face as she took up residence on her unmade bed, the Journal of Psychology in her hands. Her cat followed her and sat down at the foot of the bed, staring at her. She couldn't look at him. Instead, she risked a look out the window, where the rain continued to patter against the glass. Although it was warm in her apartment, she couldn't help but feel the cold of the outside seep into her bones.
She opened the journal and began to read. By the time she stopped, she glanced back at the window, where the rain had ceased but the clouds continued to darken the sky. She looked at the foot of her bed to where her cat had been sitting, but he was not there.
