There was a patch of grass for the dogs in the building to make their mess, a lot of weeds as tall as my hips, and a concrete slab with two benches on it.
The ashtray was toppled over, cigarette butts everywhere.
I stepped over the mess to the wrought iron bench with the least amount of rust, and dropped onto it with a grunt.
And the moment I did, a dash of black came skittering out from under the neighbouring hedge.
A cat.
Something warmed in me at the sight of it—and a small meow slipped out of me.
The cat responded with a meow of its own and pranced right for me.
I set out my takeaway containers on the bench, then plucked a strip of satay noodle from the box. I tossed it onto the concrete.
The cat paused at the noodle, gave it a quick sniff before snubbing it.
But the cat didn’t leave me. It threaded between my legs, around and around.
Not the first time we’d met.
He belonged to the old guy on the ground floor, and he let it roam every single night.
I hated that.
Too much rat poison around, too many sickos, too many untrained dogs, not to mention the cars speeding up and down the road.
But tonight, the cat and me stuck together.
He joined me on the bench, nibbling at the tofu in the box, and it brought a smile to my lips.
“So that’s your name, then,” I decided. “Tofu.”
The only answer he gave was a purr. Constant, soothing.
The old guy downstairs didn’t like me much. Not since I told him to stop letting his cat out at night, and listed off every reason why he shouldn’t do that. So when, in passing, I asked his cat’s name—he told me to mind my business.
I’d been trying to name the cat since.
Tofu suited him.
I was pleased with that.
And once we’d both polished off our dinner, I rummaged through my bag for a joint I might have left in there, or a spare ounce of weed in a hidden pocket.
I found cigarettes.
That was good enough.
Tofu and I made a night of it.
I smoked, lounged on the hard metal bench as comfortably as I could with a cat curled up on my lap, and I listened toWish You Were Hereon a loop.
I shut my eyes on a gradual dawn.
And when I opened them again, it was to a purpling sky, a sleeping cat on my lap, and the buzz of my phone interrupting a song that broke my fucking heart every time I submerged myself into it.
I angled my neck in a crooked way just to look down at the text on the screen.
