**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. The leaves had turned brittle and curled at the edges, while a fine drizzle lingered all day without pause. A biting wind urged everyone indoors, and with the temperature barely scraping 6°C, it felt unnaturally cold for late September.
Yet here I was, bound by work to a small town on a business trip. My lodgings were in an old two-storey house converted into a guesthouseonce home to young professionals and their families, now standing nearly empty. Still, I liked my room. Outside my window stood a tall, sturdy maple, and whenever I cracked it open to smoke, I couldnt help but admire its strength and grace.
Most days were spent working, but evenings brought quiet solaceprecious in my usual bustling city life. Then, one night, I felt itan intense gaze fixed upon me from beyond the glass. Though I strained to see through the darkness, nothing revealed itself. Yet the sensation lingered. Whoor whatwas watching me?
Days passed until, exhausted and hungry one evening, I cobbled together a simple meal of bread, tinned meat, and sausage. Almost instinctively, I opened the windowand in leapt a magnificent grey tomcat with golden eyes. He must have been observing me from the maples branches.
«Come in then,» I said. «You look peckish. Fancy a bite?»
The cat assessed me with regal caution before approaching. I offered sausage and fishunsure about the bread, but he took it all with dignified relish. Something about his company lifted my spirits, a balm against loneliness.
After eating, he fixed me with a pleading look at the remaining sausage. «Go on, take it,» I laughed. With a flick of his tail, he snatched the morsel and vanished into the night.
He returned the next eveningthis time, tapping the glass impatiently. Id brought extra food, hoping hed stay longer. And he did. Between bites, I found myself confiding in him, his amber eyes seeming to understand every word.
As my trip neared its end, I grew anxious. How could I ask him to come home with me? Each night, he leftwhere to, I didnt know.
On my final afternoon, I wandered the town, buying a sturdy bagjust in case. Near a row of derelict garages, a cacophony of snarls erupted. Rounding a corner, I froze: a small tabby queen shielded two kittens as four dogs closed in.
And theremy grey herolaunched himself at the pack, a whirlwind of claws and fury. The dogs faltered, then fled. I scooped up the trembling family, the tom limping behind.
Back at the guesthouse, I checked them over. The queen and kittens were unharmed, but my brave friend bore a gash near his ear and a wounded paw. «Vet first thing tomorrow,» I murmured.
Funny how life works. Id hoped for one catnow I had three. Yet as we journeyed home, my heart felt lighter than ever. Happiness, I realised, isnt just foundits made, one act of kindness at a time.
And perhaps, in caring for others, we find the family weve always wanted.
