**The Business Trip**
Mid-autumn had arrived, and the weather was far from pleasant. There was no sign of an Indian summernature clearly had other plans. The leaves had turned yellow and curled inward, a persistent drizzle fell all day without pause, and a biting wind urged everyone indoors. Six degrees Celsiusunseasonably cold for late September.
By some twist of fate, I found myself on a business trip to a small town. They put me up in an old two-storey house on the ground floor. Once, these had been flats for young professionals and their families, but now, with specialists in short supply, the place had been converted into a guesthouse.
Still, I liked the flat. Outside my window stood a tall, sturdy maple, and whenever I cracked it open for a smoke, I couldnt help but admire the trees quiet strength. Most of my days were spent working, but in the evenings, I savoured the silence, losing myself in a booka rare luxury back in the bustling city I called home.
Then, one evening, I felt itthe unmistakable weight of someones gaze on me. I was being watched, studied. My skin prickled with the sensation. I peered through the glass into the darkness but found nothing. Still, the feeling lingered. Who could it be? Animal or human? I had no answers.
A few nights later, exhausted and hungry, I cobbled together a simple suppersliced ham, tinned fish, and bread. Without thinking, I pushed the window open. Suddenly, a large grey tomcat with amber eyes leapt onto the sill. A striking creature. So this was my observerperched high in the maple, hidden among the leaves.
Well, come in then, I invited. You hungry? Help yourself.
After days of watching me, he mustve made up his mind. With cautious dignity, he approached the table. I laid out ham, fish, and a small piece of breadI wasnt sure about the bread, but cats certainly liked the rest. He ate slowly, regally. For some reason, it lifted my spirits. Loneliness, perhaps.
We dined together that night. When only a scrap of ham remained, he fixed me with such an imploring look that I blurted, Go on, take it. With a flick of his tail, he snatched it up, leapt gracefully back to the sill, and vanished into the night.
I was disappointed. Id wanted more time with him.
The next evening, I returned with extra ham and some boiled chicken from the canteenhalf-hoping hed return. He didnt keep me waiting. He didnt even wait for me to open the window this timehe tapped the glass with his paw, demanding entry.
We ate, and this time, he seemed in no hurry to leave. I found myself talking to himabout my life, my work. He listened intently, his golden eyes seeming to see straight into my soul. An hour later, he took the chicken I offered, gave a soft meow, and slipped away.
I wondered who he belonged to, where he lived. And yesId grown attached. I even began imagining taking him home with me. A loyal companion, someone to talk to, secrets kept between us. Another living soul under my roof.
The days passed. He visited every evening, and our chats became a ritual. His expressive eyes answered my questions, mirrored my emotions when my stories grew too heavy.
With one day left before my return, I grew anxious. How would I explain that I was leavingand that I wanted him to come with me? He always disappeared at night. Where would I even find him?
That afternoon, I wandered the town, killing time. I browsed shop windows, bought a larger bagjust in case. Before I knew it, Id wandered near an old garage lot.
Thena piercing yowl, like a slap to the ears. Following the sound, I found a scene Id never forget.
A small grey-and-white cat shielded two tiny kittens, cornered by a snarling dog. Three others circled, barking, snapping. Chaos.
And there he wasmy grey tom, latched onto one dogs muzzle, claws raking furrows. Blood sprayed. The mother cat shrieked, covering her babies while he tore into the pack, a whirlwind of teeth and claws.
The dogs faltered.
I swung the bag Id bought, but my help was hardly needed. The tom had already driven them off.
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 mother and kittens were unharmed, but my brave tom had a wounded paw and a cut near his ear. First thing tomorrow, Id take him to a vet.
They say dreams come true. Id wanted one catnow I was taking home a whole family.
And I was happy. I had a family nowa feline one, but a family all the same. Maybe, someday, thered be more.
As the train carried us back to the city, I felt lighter. Happiness, I think, is something you pass on.
Thats what I believe, anyway. What do you think?
