<span style="color: #FF8000">“We’ll be happy here, annnd-!”</span>Blake hoisted her up from behind her knees, holding her tight against his abdomen.<span style="color: #FF8000">“And we’ll make lots of babies.  I mean, maybe just two.  One is also fine.”</span>He kissed her.  Blake was hopeful, and he knew that starting over in this new town, in a new house with new neighbours was a good thing for the both of them.  He wanted to prove to Cassandra he could be a worthy husband, and here was the perfect place to do it.<br/><br/>---<br/><br/>There were so many boxes.  Boxes upon boxes.  Boxes<span style="font-style: italic">within</span>boxes.  He could finally build the box fort of his childhood dreams with the amount of boxes he must have gone through already.  Admittedly, he was certain a lot of it belonged to Cassandra, but he didn’t complain.  The windows were left open to keep the dust from accumulating as they moved everything around.  Blake noted the several different faces passing by, peering in with curiosity.  He knew they would all show up to meet and greet eventually, and then, he would know first-hand what sort of folks they shared their block with.<br/><br/>For now, however, he was content with helping the movers place the furniture.  It wasn’t until most of it was in place that he realised how little they had, and how much more space they acquired with the new domain.  He felt like a king.  They were finally moving up in life.<br/><br/>He decided on a quick break while he awaited the arrival of the next truck.  After lifting heavy objects indoors most of the day, being outside sounded bloody great.  The breeze felt nice, tickling through his auburn locks and caressing his skin.  He set out his lawn chair behind the house, in the midst of the neglected and dried up grass, and plopped into it, beer in hand.  It opened with a satisfying pop, and there was nothing sweeter.  His land.  His house.  His grass.  His cat.  His beer—<br/><br/>Cat?<br/><br/>The little orange feline was sitting mere inches from him, chattering softly and arching its back on his legs.  He could already feel his eyes tearing up.  He kicked it away, and the cat immediately changed its tune.  It growled and hissed at him, then flicked its tail in a display of displeasure and trotted away.  Blake watched it go, fighting back the pressing need to sneeze.  It retreated into the foliage, where he spotted several more feline eyes trained on him.  Eerie.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF8000">“Honey, I think we should get a dog,”</span>he called nasally back into the house.