text: &#x200B; It was a study. A library? No, a living room. Yes, definitely a living room. A cozy room not burdened by the plight of modernity and appliances. Someplace an old lady would live. In fact, there she was, not older than seventy by the looks of it, and quite small and frail to boot. She was sitting on an old oaken rocking chair passed down from one generation to the next. She recalled her great-grandfather making it for his aging wife, but that was many lifetimes ago. Days were spent in it as she was one of the unfortunate ones to live long enough to see everyone else leave. Her son in Spain, her daughter in the Americas, and her husband only with her in spirit and in the image on the wall. Indeed, the days were melancholy and seemed to meld together into an endless stream of loneliness. The only company to keep this little old lady entertained was her cat, Erol. Erol was a fully-black, ordinary cat, although hopelessly fat. The absence of any grandchildren to take care of meant that Erol was the one being spoiled beyond measure. Just like the woman, he spent his days lying on the shaggy carpet in front of the rocking chair, living the cat’s dream. The room was a tidy mess of memorabilia. A picture of her and her husband at their wedding, the one where they dropped the cake so they had to eat biscuits. A dried-out flower she kept in a small glass dome. It was the first flower she ever got. Not from her husband, though. The name was long lost to the wind but the care never left the stems or the petals of the crisp rose. An ocean of pictures, some framed, some not, from her trips around the world and from the familiar comfort of her hometown. Indeed, a full life she lived. I lied before. Sitting in the rocking chair was not the only thing she did. She’d grow roots, wouldn’t she? Ever since the last of her family left the home, a strange coldness moved in and seemed to linger in every corner of the house, no matter the weather. Every place was freezing except for the fireplace, and around Erol. She understood that her fat tub of a cat would be warm, but it seemed odd that he would warm up an entire room. Every day, she made the rounds. Shakily standing up from her rocking chair, a place of stiff comfort, she walked from one room to the next, standing in each of them for a few minutes before moving to the next. If there was warmth, she would stay longer. If she heard a sound, she would sit down. Eventually, though, the warmth would become intense enough to warrant a stool or two being turned over, or a cupboard examined. On this particular day, she went into her bedroom. It was amazingly ordinary compared to the liveries and antiques housed inside her living room, but it provided comfort, nonetheless. Standing in the room, she was about to release a sigh before leaving, but a twinge of heat radiated on her leg. *Oh, I might just stay a bit longer.* The old woman walked around the room more, touching the cupboards, the windows, and anything her hand could reach before the heat became warmer once more. She sat down on the edge of her bed, letting her house dress dangle freely from her knees. Steadily, the warmth made the room pleasant again, almost enough to sleep in. As the bliss of comfort reached its peak, her attention was drawn by movement at her feet. There was something small tangled the flowing cotton of her dress, wrapped like a parcel, almost. As her stoic expression turned to a smile, a small tail stuck out from the mess of fabric, followed by a small paw, then it flopped out onto the rug, eager to return to its play. It was a small kitten. It was mostly white with spots of orange and brown on its head and tail, and quite playful. The little ones that visited her were usually more scared or aggressive, but not this little fellow. *Hello there, little one! My, you’re a lively one. You’ll make Erol excellent company.* It did not. Erol was the type of cat to only love its owner and no one else, but he had to tolerate the newcomer for the sake of his own master. The little one sprang at Erol on its hind legs, launching a mock “attack” at the terribly fat cat. He simply laid down and did not pay him any mind. Although the site of the two playing was a comfort, she could not help but feel a twinge of sadness. Visitors came and went all the time, and she could tell the reason for their visit upon their first touch. When she touched this precious life for the first time as it unfurled from her dress, she felt grime, cold, and wetness. *Drowned. What a shame.* However, whatever happened to the kitten before was not her concern. Her only duty was to provide them a home, even for a day, so they could return to their journey and reach their destination. Wherever they went, she did not know. She set the small plate of tuna on the ground next to the fireplace along with a small bowl of water. *Jump! Jump! Play with me! Cat. Fat cat. Warm. Fesh! Wa...* The small one’s thoughts raced in its hyperactivity, jumping from his unwilling companion to the rug to the food, but when it met its bowl of water, it stood still in its tracks. It looked at the sloshing water and seemed to tremble, but the woman was quick to act for her age. *Oh! Oh goodness, would you look at this silly old lady!* She picked the kitten up and held it close to her. It was still shaking. Moreover, it was cold, cold as the creaky halls of her home. *I’m sorry, little one. This should suit you better.* She put an even smaller bowl on the floor and set the kitten down. It moved forward and inspected the bowl, sniffing it timidly. *M... Milk? Milk!* Its joy and warmth were back as it made a mess of itself, dunking its head clumsily into the bowl. The lady giggled and helped clean the little one up. Her furry visitors brought joy to her life, but they always left soon after arriving. In the case of the new kitten, it was there for two days before the new warmth it brought into the home was gone. She did not have to stand up and look for them, she just *knew*. Whenever a new life would leave for its journey, she would feel intense sadness, a weight of emotion that would seemingly bolt her to the chair for days on end. The only thing to get her out of her slump would be Erol. The fat cat would waddle his way over to the chair, look up at his master, and jump into her lap. His own warmth would permeate her and give her back the familiar comfort of a friendly bond and allow her to stand up again to check for more visitors. Cats from all walks of life would come to visit her house. Some were angry: *Back! Back! hiss No more! No! Let go! Hiss* The angry ones would be taken from their hiding spots and embraced. Sharp claws would slash at her arms and chest, but she held them tighter all the same. They held tight, whispering sweet words of comfort until the wild slashing would turn to slight hissing, and until the hissing subsided into curious sniffs. They were usually the cuddliest out of all her guests. On the other hand, some were confused: *Ma-Master? Where master? Why... Why master leave? You... master?* Nothing could keep the tears from flowing when she heard these thoughts, and she made sure to keep these visitors around for as long as possible to make sure they felt loved. Some were young, as the drowned kitten. They were young, ignorant of the cruelty of humans, and came with all of the child-like tendencies befitting of them. These were usually the first ones to leave. She smiled as she reminisced about a cat that was uncannily like Erol. A white cat, just as fat, and just as lazy as him. She could very rarely hear Erol’s thoughts, but for this occasion, she could hear only one: *Friend.* The two lounged around for many days as visitors came and went. The woman did not feel sad when the white cat left, which she found odd, but welcomed it. Sometime after the young kitten left for its journey, she was feeling sad when Erol jumped on her lap again. He looked into her eyes. *Another one gone. Still the same sadness?* *Yes, they are just so precious I wish they could stay just a bit longer. I’m terribly lonely, Erol.* *I understand. Their lives are precious beyond measure. The ones that come here, must pass this point to reach the end. Their end is another’s beginning. Each time a newcomer visits us, it means a new life has started. Take comfort in that, my dear.* *But why do I have to do this, Erol? Surely, they can find their way on their own, no?* *They cannot. A caretaker must always be here, in this house, to watch over them and guide them on the right path. I should know, I’ve been here longer than you.* He made himself comfortable on her lap, lying down and purring. *And you promise that each one that comes here is going to be happy after they leave?* *Of course, I would not let them stray.* *Erol?* *Yes?* *Are you death?* The cat opened its eyes to look up at the woman, taking a moment to gaze, seemingly pondering before returning to his slumber. She never heard his thoughts again. From then on, she never thought twice about her visitors, always focusing on helping them in any way she could. Erol always mended the anguish she felt when a visitor would leave, and she always helped them. Every last one.