**The Business Trip**
Mid-autumn. The weather was far from pleasantno sign of an «Indian summer» in sight. Nature had other plans. The leaves curled and browned at the edges, a relentless drizzle hung in the air, and a biting wind chased everyone indoors. Six degrees Celsius. Far too cold for late September.
By some twist of fate, I found myself on a business trip to a small, quiet town. They lodged me in an old two-story house, converted into a guesthouseonce home to young professionals and their families, now standing nearly empty. Still, I liked the place. Outside my window stood a towering maple, its branches swaying in the wind. Whenever I cracked the window to smoke, Id lose myself in the sight of that strong, beautiful tree.
Most days were spent buried in work, but come evening, I savoured the silencesomething my bustling London life sorely lacked. Then, one night, I felt itthe unmistakable weight of eyes upon me. Someoneor somethingwas watching. The sensation prickled over my skin. I peered through the glass, but the darkness gave nothing away.
Still, the feeling lingered. Who was out there? Man or beast? I had no answers.
One evening, exhausted and starving, I cobbled together a simple suppersliced ham, tinned sardines, and bread. On instinct, I cracked the window open.
And thenthere he was. A massive grey tomcat, amber eyes gleaming, landing gracefully on the windowsill. A striking creature. No doubt hed been the one studying me from the maples branches.
Well then, come in, I murmured. Hungry? Help yourself.
The cat observed me a moment, then stepped inside with quiet dignity. I laid out ham and fish, adding a small crust of breadthough I wasnt sure cats ate bread. He ate with deliberate grace, and for reasons I couldnt name, my heart lifted. Loneliness, perhaps.
When only a scrap of ham remained, those golden eyes fixed on me, unblinking.
Go on, take it, I said.
With a flick of his tail, he snatched it up, leapt back to the sill, and vanished into the night.
The next evening, I returned with extra ham and a portion of roast chickenhalf-hoping hed return. And he did. This time, he didnt waithe tapped a paw against the glass, insistent.
We dined together, and tonight, he lingered. I spoke to himabout work, my lifeand he listened like he understood every word, those piercing eyes seeing straight through me. After an hour, he took the last bite of chicken, offered a soft *meow*, and slipped away.
I wondered where he went. Who owned him? And yesId grown attached. The thought crossed my mind: maybe I could take him home. A companion to share the silence.
He visited every night after that, our ritual unbroken. Until the final evening of my trip, when panic set in. How could I explain I was leaving? And how could I find him when he always disappeared?
I left work early, wandering the town, dreading the empty hours ahead. In a dim alley near old garages, a shrill yowl split the air. The sound of snarling dogs followed.
I sprinted toward the noiseand froze.
A small tabby crouched over two tiny kittens, snarling as four strays circled her. And there, in the thick of itmy cat. He tore into the lead dog, claws raking bloody streaks down its muzzle. The tabby shrieked, shielding her young, while the grey tom became a whirlwind of teeth and fury.
The dogs faltered.
I swung the new travel bag Id boughtjust in casebut hed already driven them off. Shame-faced, the strays bolted.
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 tabby and kittens were unharmed. But my brave tomhis front paw was hurt, blood dried near his ear.
The vet would see him first thing tomorrow.
Funny how things work out. Id planned to bring back one cat. Now I had three.
Yet as we boarded the train home, I couldnt stop smiling. I had a family nowsmall, furry, but mine.
And who knows? Maybe one day, a proper one too.
Happiness, Ive found, has a way of spreading.
Id like to think so, anyway. The tabby curled trustingly against my coat during the journey, while the kittens mumbled in their sleep. My tomcatnow resting his head on my kneepurred like hed never known a storm. Outside, the autumn rain softened into mist, the world quiet, as if holding its breath. I touched his fur, warm and real, and closed my eyes. For the first time in years, I felt like I was exactly where I belonged.
