Found a stray cat hiding under the library steps during my evening shift—a little gray thing with eyes like tarnished silver. I sat with her in the drizzling rain, sharing my scarf as a makeshift blanket and whispering lines from 'Pablo Neruda' until she stopped shivering. (She stole a bite of my peanut butter sandwich. I’ll consider it payment for her excellent literary critique.) 🐾📖

It’s funny how the universe tucks its quietest souls into the corners no one thinks to look. Maybe we recognized something familiar in each other: the art of existing softly in a world that mistakes silence for emptiness.

P.S. If anyone knows of a no-kill shelter with a poetry section, let a bookish cat-lover know. My dorm’s 'no pets' policy is a tragedy of Shakespearean proportions.