**The Uninvited Cat**
Today, Emily moved into her very own flat. Never mind that it was tiny and on the outskirts of London. The ground floor of the three-storey building was so low that she could step right into the garden simply by climbing over the windowsill. The twelve-square-metre room held a bed, a double-door wardrobe, a coffee table, and two chairs. The kitchen was just big enough for a sink, a cupboard beneath it, a stool, and a small tablenothing more could possibly fit. A modest little place. But it was hers.
Emily had bought it with the inheritance from her aunt, who had adored her niece for her easygoing nature and willingness to lend a hand in any situation. The money had only just covered the cost of this flatthere had been no better options in the city for the price.
«Its a lovely little place, bright and handy,» the estate agent had said. «Perfect for one.»
«For one, yes, I agree… But Ill have to find somewhere to put a fridge…»
All day, Emily scrubbed, wiped, and tidied.
By evening, everything gleamed, her belongings were in place, and the kettle hummed on the stove. The wide windowsill was lined with dishes. She paced her new domain again and again, trying to figure out where the promised refrigerator might fit.
Night fell. Tea was drunk, and the fridge remained homeless.
Emily climbed into bed, pulled the duvet over herself, and listened to the crickets chirping outside. Their rhythmic song lulled her to sleep.
A crash from the kitchen jolted her awake. Heart pounding, she grabbed her phonethree in the morning. Dark. Still night. Burglars? A ghost? Or just the wind?
She crept to the door and peered into the kitchen.
The dishes from the windowsill lay scattered across the floor. Her favourite mug had split cleanly in two, and between the pieces sat a cat.
An ordinary tabby. Only enormous. It stared at her, unblinking.
«Where did you come from?»
The cat glanced pointedly at the open window.
«Well, go back!» She flapped her hands at him. In response, the cat leapt past her, landed on the bed, and settled in as if he owned the place.
Morning found them still at oddsEmily on the chair, the cat sprawled across the bed. At six, the unwelcome guest stretched, yawned, and vanished.
The day passed in more household chores.
By evening, she remembered her intruder. She cleared the windowsill, shut the window tight, and told herself this would be enough to keep the furry trespasser out.
But at exactly three in the morning, there was a scuffle outside. The same cat perched on the windowsill, pressing its forehead against the glass, watching her with a heavy, unyielding gaze.
«Stay there, then,» she muttered and went back to bed.
She woke to a weight on her legs. The cat lay across them, utterly at ease.
«Oh, you!» She grabbed a pillow, but the creature merely yawned and sauntered toward the now-open windowwhich she had definitely locked the night before.
The next night, she resolved to stay awake and catch the boundary-breaker in the act. She turned off the lights, sat by the windowsill, and watched the garden.
Her eyes adjusted to the dark. Trees swayed, crickets hummed, her eyelids grew heavy, and warmth spread through her legs…
She woke still in the chair. The cat lay in her lap, rumbling with deep, contented purrs.
«Fine. If I cant beat you, Ill join you. Every house needs a man, I suppose. Ill make room,» she surrendered.
Now the cat stayed during the day, too.
When the long-awaited fridge arrived, she still hadnt decided where to put it. The cat settled the matterhe sat in the hallway corner and yowled until she took measurements. It was the perfect spot.
His new throne became the top of the fridge. He ate there, slept there, lived there.
One evening, he began acting strangely. He jumped down, circled the fridge, climbed back up, fussed, then froze in a sphinx-like pose.
«Calmed down?» Emily asked. «Good. Sleep. So will I.»
The cat didnt move.
A deafening howl shattered the night, tearing her from sleep.
The cat stood atop the fridge, screaminglouder than any ambulance or police siren.
«Whats wrong? Are you hurt?»
He arched his back, howling, refusing to be comforted. Then he leapt down and pressed against her leg.
At the same moment, sparks crackled behind the fridge, smoke curling into the air. The cat bolted to the door, clawing franticallyjust outside was the circuit breaker.
Emily flipped the switch, cutting the power, then flung open the windows.
«Well call an electrician tomorrow. For now, lets sleep. Thank you, kitty. What would I have done without you?»
By morning, the cat was gone.
He didnt return that evening. Or the next day.
Some called it coincidence. Others thought it was her aunt watching over her. But Emily knewhe had been her guardian angel. That cat had walked into her flat, and into her life, with too much certainty to be anything else.
