He nods. Turns. Takes two steps and pauses. "If you need anything. I'm next block."
"I'll remember."
He leaves. The door swings shut behind him, and the cafe feels smaller. Quieter. Like he took up more space than just his physical presence.
Nora steps to me. "What. Was. That."
"A guy dropping off a cat."
"That was not just a guy." She fans herself with the broom handle. "That was a whole situation."
"Don't be dramatic."
Gumbo chuckles from his chair. "Kid's got a point. Man looked at you like you hung the moon."
"He looked at the kitten."
"Sure he did."
I ignore them both and carry the carrier to the back room. Urchin's still asleep in the cardboard box. I move the new kitten's carrier beside it and unlatch the door. She peers out, whiskers twitching, then slinks into the open and sniffs Urchin's box.
"Play nice," I tell her.
She ignores me and starts grooming her paw.
I return to the counter. Nora's grinning like she knows something I don't. I point at her. "Wipe that look off your face."
"What look?"
"That look."
She bats her eyelashes, all innocence, and goes back to sweeping.
The rest of the afternoon blurs. Orders, cleanup, a minor crisis when Muffin knocks over a display of bookmarks. By three o'clock, I'm running on fumes and spite. I'm restocking sugar packets when Nora gasps.
"Oh my god."
I don't look up. "What now?"
"You're viral."
That gets my attention. "What?"
She shoves her phone in my face. The screen shows a video. Grath crouched beside the crate, the kitten bumping his hand. The angle's low, shaky, clearly filmed without permission. The caption reads:orc saves kitten at local cafe.
The view count is climbing. Fast. Comments flood the screen. Heart emojis, crying emojis, people tagging friends.
"Who filmed this?" I grab the phone.
"Mrs. Abernathy." Nora points to a table near the window. An elderly woman in a floral blouse waves, unapologetic. "She posted it like an hour ago."
"An hour?" I scroll through the comments. Most are variations onso pureandthis is everything.A few mention the cafe by name. One asks if Grath is single.
I hand the phone back. "Delete it."
"I can't. It's Mrs. Boris's account."
"Then tell her to delete it."
