The day it all started began like every other Tuesday morning, if a bit uneasy. I met my sister, Ember, at Ava’s Books and Coffee for book discussions. Em had found the location a few years after graduating college, and it was close to both our workplaces. It was a cozy store in the heart of Chicago designed to resemble a vintage office. Deep red oak shelves filled to the brim with dusty books were built into the walls, and a dozen tables and plush leather reading chairs were scattered throughout the interior. The smell of coffee and dusty books permeated the air, a familiar scent to both of us.

This Tuesday, as each Tuesday before, we started with breakfast, filling the familiar air above our table with friendly small talk as we ate, updating each other on the events of the past week, and complaining about how the wind made the air outside feel far colder than it should.

Our book discussion –the point of our meetups—was saved until after we’d eaten our pastries, as several of our previous talks had abruptly ended with us kicked out the door before we had finished eating.

This Tuesday, there was no real risk of getting kicked out as the owner, Ava, found our discussions amusing and enjoyed our regular income so long as there were no customers around to bother.

Once we had finished eating, we cleared our plates and put them off to the side for Ava to pick up when she next passed by, reminding us of the time, which we frequently lost track of due to Ember’s penchant for arguing. Our small talk tapered into a still silence; the only sounds in the shop were distant shuffles as Ava moved around in the back of the store.

I had a sneaking suspicion my sister had read one of her ridiculous web novels again and was in no mood to listen to her attempt to convince me of their value today. This morning, I had woken to a sense of general unease, a familiar feeling I had likened in my childhood to ants crawling up my spine. It had never failed to predict trouble and left me feeling as antsy as a school kid waiting to give a speech. I would much rather get the trouble at the beginning of the day than have it haunted by the shadow of anticipation.

“Since I have taste and you do not, I will go first this time,” My tone was jesting, but I meant the words as I said them. Ember preferred the more marketable modern novels, while I preferred more cultured classics.

Ember rolled her eyes but surprisingly didn’t argue.

“I finished reading Return of the King this week. I’d forgotten how excellent his prose is.” Ember made a face at my statement. Coming from a family of avid readers, we’d both read the series at a young age. While I had fallen in love with the prose and the world-building, Ember, to my distaste, had found the writing to be dry and drawn out. She thought the same of many of my favorite novels. Of course, I find her favorite novels to be dull and repetitive.

It was a frequent argument growing up and continued to be so over Tuesday breakfast.

“It certainly is…flowery.” She conceded, keeping the full extent of her distaste to herself for once.

I nodded in agreement and started to bring her attention to a favorite example of mine before she cut me off.

“While you were off rereading things you’ve read a hundred times before,” she huffed, “I started reading a new novel, Heirs.” It was yet another point of endless frustration. She rarely reread series, preferring to spend her time “having new adventures.” I, meanwhile, preferred to reread and carefully examine the classics, excavating them until I’d found something new.

“It’s a web novel, and-”

“-Ugh,” I groaned, cutting her off. It was childish, but she really brought out the best in me. Though, normally, I wasn’t quite this rude.

“Another web novel? Let me guess, a transmigration novel?” Predictable. She nodded and opened her mouth to explain further. I cut her off again. “And you get on me about rereading novels. Villain, hero, or side character this time?”

“Side character, but-” I didn’t really care.

“But nothing. They’re all basically the same thing.” Person ends up hit by a truck. Person ends up as a character in the novel or game they had just finished. Person ends up changing their fate and making friends with the characters. Or, sometimes, if they were particularly daring, they are thrown into a new world that was only like a game.

“Hayden, that’s ridiculous. That’s like saying…like saying Star Trek and Star Wars are basically the same thing. Just because they have a similar setting doesn’t mean they’re anything alike.” I really brought out the best in her too.

I brushed away the ridiculous notion. “Ember, that is not the same thing at all.”

“It really kinda is.” She insisted.

“No, it really ‘kinda’ isn’t. Star Trek and Star Wars are actually good.” And completely different, but that was obvious.

She raised an eyebrow.

“Newer stuff included in that statement?”

I grimaced.“Ha ha. You know what I meant.” She knew my stance on those well, having listened to me complain endlessly.

“Web novels, and other modern media for that matter, are actually good too, you know. If your ancient, judgy ass could see past your crusty old book pages, maybe you would see that.”

I opened my mouth to argue.

“Oh wait,” she continued, “Maybe you couldn’t because your personality is about as flexible and dry as the novel pages you devour.” She rolled her eyes.

“Well, at least I read stuff written for people my age. We’re adults, not children.”

“Yeah, and you totally act like it,” she said icily, “Besides, most readers of web novels are our age, thank you very much.”

“The writing quality certainly reflects that.” It was the same for most modern novels.

“They’re enjoyable, which is more than I can say about the shit you read.”

“Hey! They are classic for a reason!”

“Reason meaning a bunch of stuffy old men decided they were classic? Well, at least you look the part.” She sniped, glancing at my trademark sweater vest and khakis, which I wore to work. Not that my clothing choices were much different outside of work. It was obvious by looking at me that I had no athletic ability, so I picked a more sophisticated look.

“Again, at least it suits my age.” I gestured across the table to point out her graphic anime t-shirt and the childish bow she’d tied in her ponytail. It was a look outside what you’d expect for someone with such a naturally athletic build. Overall gave a strange dissonance. No one had the guts to bully her growing up.

“No, you’re just an ancient, old, crusty soul with something against fun. Besides, you can’t tell me that you’re actually comfortable in what you’re wearing.” She was right. The sweater vest wasn’t so bad as I was constantly cold, which my family blamed on my small stature and slim figure, but the Khakis were movement-restricting. I wouldn’t admit it to her, though. Rule number one of siblinghood: never admit fault.

“You can’t tell me that people take you seriously in what you’re wearing.”

Ember crossed her arms and leaned forward, her long strawberry-blonde ponytail slipping over her shoulder. “I can, actually. The only people as judgy as you are cranky old men like you.”

“Old?! I-” Ava cut off my protest as she collected the dishes from the edge of the table.

“She has a point,” Ava stated. Ember gave a victorious smirk, returning her ponytail to its place with a smug flip.

After so many years, the motion still rankled, and I felt indignance rise in my chest.

“Hayden has a point as well. There’s value in the classics.” It was my turn to give a victorious smirk. Ember frowned.

“Besides,” Ava continued, casually checking her wristwatch, “it’s almost 7:30. Don’t you start work at 8?” She directed the second half of her statement toward me with a raised brow.

There was a loud creak as my chair scraped against the floor.

I pulled a wad of cash out of my wallet without counting and tossed it across the table to Ember, who scrambled to catch it. It was my turn to pay, and Ember was usually trustworthy.

“Use this to pay the bill and give the change back to me next week!” I dodged Ava and power walked out, the bell on the door giving a joyous jingle as it swung open and shut.

The feeling of ants trickling up my spine continued through the rest of the day, causing frequent mistakes at work, and I spent nearly an entire hour scouring my code for a missing semicolon at lunch. Despite this, the workday passed by reasonably peacefully. The hour hand crawled towards the 5, and I was free to walk home.

Living and working in Chicago meant driving anywhere was endlessly frustrating, a constant battle of traffic and high parking fees. So instead, most of my year was spent walking a half hour to and from work. In the summer, this wasn’t so bad, as a constant breeze from Lake Michigan caressed and cooled the windy city. In the winter, however, the welcome breeze turned into a heat-stealing gust that ripped away any warmth, and I turned to the fairly decent public transportation system.

Fairly decent for the Midwest, that is.

Luckily, the leaves had turned recently, and while mornings were fairly cold, the evenings were often quite pleasant. As It was still the Midwest, however, I found myself switching from walking to public transport on a day-to-day or morning-to-evening basis due to the fickle weather.

This evening was a prime example of perfect weather. It was warm enough that no jacket was needed, but the constant breeze kept it cool enough that you didn’t sweat when walking. Though the sun was already starting to set, the city was enjoying the weather, and pedestrian laughter and chatter filled the darkening streets and shortened the lengthening shadows. Unfortunately, the vague sense of impending danger made it difficult for me to enjoy the weather, and I caught myself eyeing each individual who walked too close. The door to my apartment couldn’t appear fast enough, and I hoped something would soon make the ants crawl back into their hill.

A sudden “MEEEOOWWW!” nearly caused me to jump out of my shoes.

Startled, I cast my gaze down toward the source of the noise to meet the pitiful golden eyes of a black kitten. It was almost fully grown, with only the fluffy nature of its coat betraying its age. The outline of a rib cage underneath its fur indicated it had been a while since the kitten had a proper meal, and the matts and dirt on the outside of its fur belayed the kitten’s lonely nature. A deep reddish-brown scab marred the outside of the kitten’s right ear, indicating it had recently had a violent encounter with other animals.

It was surprising the kitten had issues finding a meal in the middle of the city; Chicago was not the cleanest, and mice infestations were common. Though perhaps, I thought, looking back at the scab on the kitten’s ear, it wasn’t a lack of available food so much as a dispute over available food.

The kitten tilted its little head. “Mreow?”

“I will not feed you.” One didn’t go around Chicago feeding every stray you ran across. It was a fast track to going broke. Somehow, the kitten managed to look even more pitiful at my words.

“You’re a cat. You need to figure out how to fend for yourself.” I felt the need to explain.

I was silent for a few seconds, hoping the kitten would move along. The kitten released another pitiful little cry, which broke in the middle. Something in my chest twisted.

“I am not feeding you.” I was unsure if I was talking to the kitten or myself. “If I fed every stray in the city, I would end up starving myself.”

That was a lie, but the kitten wouldn’t know that. I resolved to move on with my life and started walking again.

The kitten followed, becoming a winding shadow beneath my feet. I resolutely ignored it. The kitten ignored my resolution and continued to follow. A few times, I stumbled and almost fell, tripped by either the kitten or myself when I had to twist to keep from crushing it. With each new fall, I walked a little faster.

After a few more near falls, I stopped sharply, swirling around to crouch down and stare the kitten directly in the eye. The reflection of the streetlights and the night sky cast an eerie glow in the kitten’s eyes, giving the impression of a starry sky. When the kitten sat on the cool concrete to stare back, I jabbed my finger in its face and firmly stated:

“I. Am. Not. Feeding. You.” I made sure to enunciate each word carefully, emphasizing them with a jab of my finger. My face must have betrayed me as the kitten perked up, its tail swishing back and forth. If any kitten could look smug, this one did. It released another pitiful, fracking meow.

A few minutes later and the doors of a street corner grocery store were swooshing closed behind me. I walked out with a small bag of cat food, wondering when I had become so weak.

The kitten was still waiting near the intersection, and I crouched in front of it, placing a handful of gritty cat food in front of its face. The kitten sniffed the food, and then its tail swished as it happily began chowing down. When the kitten finished, it licked the concrete sidewalk where the food had been and looked up at me.

I sighed and reached back in for a few more morsels. This cycle continued for a bit as I tried not to feed the kitten too much too fast, looking at and thinking of its protruding ribcage. Once the kitten had eaten enough, I sealed what little was left in the bag and dusted the crumbs off my hand, placing the bag near my leather shoes.

“It’s empty. No more.” I opened and then waved my empty hands in front of my face to emphasize.

The kitten walked over to where the bag was sitting and sniffed it before padding back and meowing, a sharp look in its eye.

“Okay, there might be some left, but you’ve already eaten enough,” I admitted. “Now go away.” The kitten stared back, then powered up the kitten eyes while pawing at the hand resting on my knee. I dodged, standing up to stretch my now cramping legs.

“No. Time to go our separate ways. No shoo.” I shooed it. “Go on, shoo.”

The kitten didn’t budge. I’d fed the foolish creature, so it wasn’t my problem. It was up to the kitten to learn to survive on its own.

I shrugged and turned to walk the last portion of my walk. No kitten tried to trip me, and I turned to see it melting into the shadows of a nearby alleyway. Good.

The apartment wasn’t very far, and the last bit of the walk passed quickly. Occasionally, the scuffling of some animal or some shifting shadows behind me made me jump, but it was an otherwise uneventful walk. I don’t know if I was grateful that I hadn’t gotten mugged on the way home or annoyed that the ants continued their warning march even now. It wasn’t until I reached the worn red door to my apartment that a little “mrrow?” alerted me to the presence of my stalker. My keys jingled in my palm as I jumped.

“How on earth-?!” I glared and crouched down again, knees aching, to confront the little beast.

“I know I fed you, but you are not coming in. I can’t afford a cat.” It was another lie. I just refused to pay the extra monthly fee. The kitten stared, the fluorescent lighting and green accents of the hallway making the scarlet scab stand stark against its ear. My heart twisted in my chest again.

“No.” I tried to convince myself. “I have things I was going to buy with that money.” Collector’s editions of books. Lots of books. The kitten’s tail swished by its feet.

I sighed again and then unlocked the door of my two-bed, two-bath apartment to let my new pet kitten in. It walked in like it already owned the place, the little beast.

Cats.

The curious kitten made sure to thoroughly inspect each item in the apartment, leaving no book unturned. They sniffed their way through the kitchen, where I’d managed to fit in a 6-person table, and into the guest bedroom (which was more of a library). Finally, they made their way through the living room and bedroom containing overflow books.

As the kitten sniffed around, I ate my dinner, thinking of potential names. Once I finished, I found a small plastic box I had used to store office supplies and dumped it before filling it with old newspapers, hoping it would do the trick until I felt like going shopping again.

When the kitten finished exploring, I carefully picked them up and determined the kitten was, in fact, a he. We made our way to the cozy warm leather couch in my living room, the kitten jumping up on my lap to demand affection. I brushed my hand over the tangled matts in his fur, adding a cat brush to my mental shopping list, which had gotten much larger than anticipated in the last hour. “I’m thinking of naming you Ani.” I told him. The name was inspired by a character from one of my, and my parents, favorite classic movies. “What do you think?”

Ani purred and rubbed his head firmly against my hand, demanding I cease talking and continue petting him. I obliged with a small smile, letting my fingers run over the matts and watching the dirt fall onto the carpet. No matter; I should be vacuuming more often anyway.

Still, I couldn’t help but feel like something was going to happen today. The ants continued to crawl up and down my body as I laid down to go to sleep that evening, a frown on my face. Before sleep dragged me under, I caught another glimpse of stars reflected in Ani’s eyes.

It didn’t occur to me to wonder how they were there when all my curtains were closed.

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