kitty in sink

Kent finds her outside his condo, a shuddering, tiny thing with patchy and matted fur hiding from the sun, and if she wasn’t mewling loudly from her hiding spot in the shade, he would have walked right past her.

“C’mere, kitty.” Kent sinks down to his knees, ducks his head to look under the dumpster, sees her looking right at him. He holds his hand out, slowly bringing it closer, his cheek nearly pressed into the burning concrete, trying to draw her out. For his effort, he’s rewarded with a hiss and a claw in his finger.

“Son of a-” Kent jolts back and lick the blood away as he glares at the dumpster. The sun is baking the garbage and he just wants to get out of here but he’s not going to leave yet. He runs back into his suite, rummages through the fridge for anything that might be edible, nearly breaking his neck on a stray stick, then parks himself back in the same spot.

First, he uncaps an overpriced bottle of volcanic water and slowly slides it towards the cat, craning his neck to check that she’s lapping up the puddle. Some of the water is soaking into his shorts but he doesn’t want to move.

“Good girl,” Kent coos when he sees her tiny tongue poke out and lick her wet paws. “That’s some expensive shit, though, so don’t waste it.”

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