I dropped my purse on a little side table next to the door and hung my jacket on a hook next to it. I caught a glance of myself in the mirror hanging above the table and saw my curls had started to turn frizzy from the humidity. My hands found the clasp on the necklace I wore and unclipped it. It was a present from my mother I reserved solely for work. The large statement gems on it were inconvenient for anything else. My mother had said it complemented the golden undertones of my light brown skin.

I didn’t see it, but I’d never had an eye for such things.

I walked down the short hall to the open space that made up the living room and kitchen. The food bowl on the floor of the kitchen was completely empty, and I quickly realized why the two cats were making such a holler.

“Okay, okay, I’ll feed you guys,” I assured them.

I pulled open the small pantry in the corner of the kitchen and found the bag of food. Both Birdie and Alonzo already sat beside the bowl, watching to ensure I didn’t go somewhere else with the delicious bag of kibble I had just pulled out.

“I wouldn’t dare,” I promised them, holding up a hand in innocence.

I was truly becoming the crazy, lonely cat lady. I groaned to myself.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I said as I poured the food, and Alonzo gave me a sympathetic look, like he knew exactly what I’d become.

Bitter and alone.

The perfect mixture for me to grow old and die alone with my fifty rescued cats.

It was like I was a magnet. I acquired Birdie and Alonzo both within the last three years when I moved to the apartment. Both had made their appearance in the alleyway below at different times.

I had no reason to turn them down.

They needed a home and food. At first, I ignored them, hoping they’d go home to wherever their owners were. But the more frequently I saw them and the rattier their fur became; I assumed they were strays.

I think I saw a lot of myself in them.

That was when I realized I truly was losing my mind.

I related most to a pair of cats.

I figured there was some sort of distribution system, a higher being that knew exactly what I needed. It was like the world knew when you needed a cat and then dropped it one day on your doorstep. Stubborn little things, unwilling to go away until you accepted you were now their owner.

The more the little creatures grew on me, the more I thanked God every day for putting them in my path.

Again, I realized I was spending far too long obsessing over the two little fur balls eating chicken kibble in my kitchen.