**The Business Trip**
Mid-autumn had settled in, and the weather was far from pleasant. There was no sign of an Indian summernature clearly had other plans. Leaves turned yellow and curled at the edges, while a persistent drizzle hung in the air all day. A biting wind urged everyone indoors, and with the temperature barely above 6°C, it felt unnaturally cold for late September.
Against my wishes, fate had me traveling for work to a small town. I was lodged on the ground floor of an old two-storey house that had once been flats for young professionals and their families. Now, with professionals in short supply, the place had been converted into a guesthouse.
Still, I didnt mind. Outside my window stood a tall, sturdy maple, and whenever I cracked it open for a smoke, I couldnt help but admire the trees quiet strength. Most of my days were spent at work, but evenings were for the simple pleasures of silence and a good booka rare luxury in my bustling hometown.
Then, one night, I felt itthe unmistakable weight of someones gaze through the glass. I scanned the darkness but saw nothing. Yet the sensation lingered. Whoor whatwas watching me?
A few evenings later, exhausted and hungry, I cobbled together a simple supper of sliced ham, tinned fish, and bread. Almost without thinking, I opened the window.
In a flash, a large grey cat with amber eyes leapt onto the sill. A striking creatureno doubt the same one whod been observing me from the maples branches.
«Come in then,» I said. «Hungry? Help yourself.»
After days of scrutiny, he seemed to have judged me safe. With slow, regal steps, he approached the table. I set out ham and fishunsure about bread, but certain about the rest. He ate with dignified relish, and for some reason, my heart lifted. Loneliness, perhaps.
We shared the meal, and when only a scrap of ham remained, he fixed me with such an imploring look that I laughed. «Go on, take it.» A flick of his tail, a swift grabthen he vanished into the night.
I was oddly disappointed. Id wanted him to stay.
The next evening, I doubled the ham and brought back boiled chicken from the canteen. Sure enough, he returnedthis time tapping the glass impatiently. We dined again, and this time, he lingered. Slowly, I found myself talkingabout work, life, everything. He listened intently, those golden eyes seeming to peer straight into my soul.
An hour later, he requested a piece of chicken with a soft meow and slipped away.
Now I was curious. Who did he belong to? Where did he go? More than that, Id grown attached. Maybe I could take him homea companion waiting for me, a secret keeper.
He visited every night after that, our ritual unbroken. His expressive eyes answered my questions or mirrored my moods.
Then came my last day. How could I explain I was leavingand that I wanted him with me? I left work early, wandering the town, buying suppliesincluding a larger bag, just in case.
Near an old garage lot, a shrill yowl pierced the air. Then snarling, barkinga fight. I sprinted toward the noise.
Behind a crumbling garage, a small tabby crouched over two kittens, cornered by four snarling dogs. And theremy cat, the grey hunter, tearing into them with claws like razors. Blood sprayed as he hurled himself at each mutt in turn.
I swung my bag like a weapon, but hed already routed them. The dogs fled, tails between their legs.
Gently, I lifted the kittens into the bag. «Right then, lets get you home.»
The grey tom limped after us. Back at the guesthouse, I checked them over. The mother and kittens were unharmed, but my brave friend had a wounded paw and a cut near his ear.
Tomorrow, wed leavestraight to the vet. Funny how things work out. Id wanted one cat; now I had a whole family.
But I was happy. For the first time in years, I wasnt returning alone.
They say happiness spreads. Maybe thats true. Either way, I drove home with my most precious cargo yet. The radio played a soft melody as rain tapped the windshield, and in the rearview mirror, I caught the grey tom watching mecalm, content, his ear twitching at the sound of the kittens quiet mews. The mother cat curled around them, purring like a lullaby. I reached back with one hand, fingers brushing warm fur, and kept driving. Home wasnt just a place anymore. It was alive, breathing softly in the back seat, and it had found me when I least expected it.
