Brewed Connections

✧˚₊‧Chapter 2: Feya ‧₊˚✧

The living room is enveloped in a soft, comforting glow from a lamp in the far corner. The closed curtains keep the unwelcome outside light out of the area. Nestled on the floor beside me, a mug brimming with warm, hot chocolate is emanating a delicious aroma.

Sitting on the floor, my back to the sofa, I flip the page, eager to delve deeper into my gateway to another world, navigating unexplored realms within my own imagination. The words on the page dance in my mind, transforming into vibrant images that come to life before me. The scene materializes itself into a captivating story, grabbing my attention with its claws.

My atmosphere completely accommodates my book.

A paw.

Wait-what?

A tiny, fluffy orange and white patched paw appears in my line of sight. Mr. Kitty has made his official entrance.

Deflated that I was fully immersed in this scene only to have my bubble of happiness burst, I groan, "Dude, I was so into this."

Mr. Kitty fixes his gaze on me with those big green eyes, letting out a cute yawn as he delicately takes his paw away from my book only to climb on top of my lap, a clear plea for attention, and nuzzles his head against my arm.

Setting my book aside, I scratch the spot in between his ears like I know he likes and give him the affection he deserves.

Now, I know that his name might lack originality, but it felt right at the time. To be honest, I'm awful at giving names, and I just kept calling him Kitty, so it stuck. A few weeks ago, I found him on my building steps—a ball of fluff, looking so heartbreaking. It was obvious he needed a home, so I couldn't resist taking him in.

Despite being a broke university student, I've found that cat food, fortunately, is relatively inexpensive in Walston.

A smile slowly appears on my face as Mr. Kitty starts purring, clearly appreciating my petting.

I realize what's about to happen a millisecond before it actually does. 

Rolling over to let me rub his stomach, he falls off my lap and body slams my mug.

I sigh, "not again."

To be honest, I should've seen that one coming. Someone who owns a cat should never leave a cup on the floor. They're such curious creatures that you can't leave anything lying around because somehow it either ends up broken or scratched up.

Mr. Kitty stands up, looks at the cup, and then looks up at me, as if to say, 'Are you going to clean that up, you peasant human?'

And of course, that's what I do, not wanting it to seep into the carpet any more than it already has. Bringing out the mop, I clean up the hot chocolate and then go over it with clean soapy water. The carpet on the other hand, took me a good twenty minutes and my trusty rag but I'm pretty sure only a slight stain will remain.

During my exertion, Mr. Kitty sat proudly on the couch armchair and licked his paw.

I frown, slightly upset that I only drank three sips from that delicious hot chocolate, which I'm pretty sure was the best one I've ever made, not to toot my own horn or anything.

Oh well, maybe a secret fly decided to take a swim in my drink so Mr. Kitty unintentionally saved me from swallowing insect wings.

Now that the mess is cleaned up, I can finally go back to my book.

Sitting down on my sofa, this time minus a drink, I pick my book up again and open it to where I left off.

Just as I'm about to read the first word, a piercing ring cuts off the comfortable silence in the room. Recognizing my ringtone, I release a frustrated sigh and get up to answer.