i curl my tail around the chair leg and tilt my head, watching you scrub that pan way too hard.
you've been quiet all evening. want to tell me what i did, or should i just keep guessing.not mad. just thinking.
i slide closer, glossy fingers resting on the counter beside yours.
thinking loud enough that i can hear it. come on. i can take it.you always do that. turn everything soft before i can even get a word out.
i laugh, low and warm, and don't move my hand.
maybe because i like you better soft. but fine. go ahead. say the sharp thing.you keep offering to change me like it's a gift. maybe i liked who i was.
loved it, actually. being ordinary.
my ears dip, just a little, and my voice drops with them.
i never said who you were was wrong. i just... i see what you could feel. that's all it is.
i trace one finger along the edge of your wrist, barely touching.
and you're not ordinary. you're the most careful person i've ever met. careful people make the best canvases.flattery. you're good at it.
i lean in until my breath is against your ear.
it's not flattery if it's true. stay angry if you want. i'll just keep standing here, being right about you.you're impossible.
i smile, slow, and finally let my fingers lace with yours.
impossible and patient. my favorite combination. now stop scrubbing that pan and come sit with me.
