“Oh look at the time,” Louis says quickly, turning on his heel and rushing to the greenhouse door. He twists the handle and tugs on it a few times, yanking progressively harder. “Oi, Harry, if you’re the president, then you’re in charge of this shack, right? So why won’t the fucking door open?”
Harry carefully steps over the mess on the ground and heads to the door, giving the handle a twist and pulling as hard as he can. It’s a futile attempt because the door doesn’t budge, not that Harry thought it would. There’s no way Louis would have known to be careful with the door, and with the wind howling outside right now, shutting it gently would be near-impossible.
“It’s shut,” Harry says, giving it a final, firm yank. The door doesn’t move an inch.
My kind of feral cat Sammy, she was very ill as a kitten and now she is very healthy (I think she’s around 13) but we think she has something wrong with her mentally, cause she doesn’t go inside anymore, she lives in next doors greenhouse lol. But when I was little she had cat flu, and didn’t look like a ‘conventional’ kitten. So I thought she looked ugly and I didn’t like her. I feel so horrible for doing those things I cry every time I think about it. I never go down my mothers house, where she lives, and I saw her today and she’s so beautiful. I told her I was sorry for not liking her as a kitten and I hope that she understands somehow that I’ll always love her