I N C O G N I T O (on hold)

• guests •

After we'd eaten dinner and enjoyed desert, I could tell everyone was starting to grow tired—me included. My mom chatted with Celine for a while as she helped with dishes, and my dad talked to Celine's son. Kai kept to himself for the most part, looking around the room. Sometimes he'd look at me, but then he'd look away, uninterested.

I was uninterested in sticking around any longer so after saying goodnight, I went upstairs, showered, and put on a tank top and shorts to sleep in. I was tired, but I also wanted to finish my painting. So instead of going straight to bed, I headed back into my art studio and sat down. At some point I heard them leave, and not long after it started to rain.

I liked the rain. There was something comforting about it. I likes the sound of it as it pattered against a windowsill. The sound of it hitting a glass window. The smell of it as it mixes with the grass and leaves, making the air just a little bit more airy. I liked how it felt when it hit my face.

It's as if for a moment, the world itself is detoxing. Ridding the earth of its evils, creating a clean, blank slate.

Only for us to slather it in sins.

But in just that moment in time—whether it lasted a few minutes or a few hours or a day—when the rain is falling and the world is silent, it's clean. We're clean.

I wasn't a deep thinker. The only time I've ever really gotten lost in my own head is when I'm creating something on paper with charcoal or paint or even pencil. But I remember when I was thirteen and way into poetry. I had no problem looking at things and seeing the deeper message.

The sky isn't just blue. It's never just blue.

You're supposed to look beyond the color, look beyond what you see.

If we relied purely on sight, we'd be blind to the world.

So I tried painting it. The sky. I tried making different shades of blues and throwing in grey and browns. Some whites for the clouds, some red and orange for a source of light.

I painted until my hands were sore and my arm was tired from staying at such an awkward angle. I painted until my sight darkened around the edges. I painted until the only intelligible sound that left me was a yawn. I painted it until it made sense.

And then I painted until I lost sight of what I was creating.

At some point the rain stopped.

I sighed and stood up, taking the painting off the easel and walking across the room to my drying rack. Just as I was leaving the room, I heard a noise at the window.

I whipped around, my gaze locking on a pair of eyes watching me. I yelped, stumbling back, nearly knocking into the standing lamp. Who the fuck—

"Meoow."

My eyes narrowed, and I took a closer look. It was a cat. It raised a hand and pawed at the closed window. I moved closer, confusion stirring inside me. I knew cats were pretty agile, but I had no idea how it could have gotten up to that window. There was no tree it could have climbed up. I was aware cats could climb walls if need be but even with that in mind, doubt pooled in my belly.

I finally reached the bay window and sat down, leaning closer so I could get a look at the animal. There was no doubt about it, the cat was beautiful. It's fur was midnight black, and if there was a color darker than that, that's what I'd use to describe it. It wasn't fat nor too small, in fact it was a perfect size. It's glowing embers felt like it was staring right through me, burning my soul.

I shuddered.

It's mouth opened again, and it meow'd again, this time sounding sad.

There was a collar around his neck. He belonged to someone. He probably got lost.

I frowned. I was an animal lover, and this poor guy was probably just hungry and lost. I opened the window finally, and slowly stuck out one hand so he could sniff me. When he seemed satisfied, he moved closer. I picked him up into my arms. He felt soft—almost unnaturally soft. No conditioner ever made my hair that soft.

It purred against me, and I began to pet him.

He was actually very beautiful.

"What's your name, hm?"

Of course he didn't respond. I shifted him so I could get a look at his collar. Hypnos.

"Hypnos?" My eyebrows furrowed and I raised him up so we could look at each other. "That your name, boy? Hypnos? Pretty weird, if you ask me."

I looked back at the collar to see if there was a number or address engraved in case the cat goes missing. Nothing but the name.

"Well, Hypnos, as long as you're well behaved, you can stay here. Tomorrow, I'll make some signs and hang them up so your family knows I found you. Sounds good?"

"Meow."

"Alrighty. We don't have cat food, but we do have tuna. Want some?"

He purred like he understood me. I laughed.

Alright. Now I was talking to cats. Great, Val, keep that up.

I left the room with the cat in my arms.