It didn’t take Micheala very long to understand that by ‘calm’, Stella had meant ‘taking away a very stressed mind’, and not ‘relaxing’ by any means. Usually, Catty was the only one lazing about, and she generally either gave everyone else bad impulse decisions she was too lazy to act on herself, or her sluggish behavior only made everyone irritable. It was more of … choice lethargy. She was only bored or tired or her legs didn’t work when it gave her a free ticket out of doing hard work.

(Such as slunking across the room to get a mouthful of kitty kibble, or retrieving a ball of yarn from the outdoors, or giving the idea of grabbing a tiny blue ball from the fence next door to a crying pup, bleating for love and his playtime back…)

Ahem. Micheala was getting offtrack.

She peered cautiously through the murky, decadent plastic of the doggydoor, her eyes roaming for her golden-pelted friend. Jeez, I hope Stella will be back soon. Being out here after all of that stuff that happened just now is -- … really, really, really giving me the creeps. Micheala blew a curt breath out between her gritted jaw. After her announcement concerning Catty, Stella explained she had to go… do some sort of stuff in her house real quick, which the tabby assumed wouldn’t take too long because they were right by and Stella was in such an amiable mood – but, apparently, Micheala had been proven wrong. Her paws started to itch nervously and she loathed the feeling with all of her heart. Usually, that anxious tingle only proved itself as a huge red flag spinning itself boldly from a metaphorical saddle on her back. Dang it… Stella, oh my god, please… please come out soon.

Oh… oh! Micheala suddenly perked up. Or – wait, I could just go inside, and see what… exactly she’s doing in there. Aha, problem solved! Go Micheala!

With a cheek-to-cheek wide grin, the tabby had already squeezed her head through the tiny entrance, the wavering slice of plastic balanced uncomfortably atop her head. I just… hope it doesn’t make Stella mind – um, crap, I mean – how did I mess that up? In my own head? Micheala scrunched up her nose. Jeez, she was already getting herself offtrack! In her own head! Anyway, anyway, um – I hope Stella doesn’t mind me coming in without warning and stuff… She’s a bit picky about letting people in her spaces without permission – of people really doing anything without her permission. Her whiskers twitched in newfound amusement. Catty did always say she’s a huge bossy bbbbbbbb… … busy bee.

She squeezed precariously through the entrance – her back half dragging after her as if it were a separate piece altogether – and came bumbling and stumbling to the inside of the house, where she clumsily regained her step. Holding back a squeak of a sneeze -- (it sure was dusty in here… did Stella’s owners not like cleaning? No wonder Catty hated coming over here, haha! … Not that there was anything wrong with Stella, of course!! Catty just – she liked neatness and everything being sparkly clean.) – and blinking away the veil of unease draped over her eyes, the tabby peered up and around the room.

The only word Micheala could think of to describe Stella’s home was… well, lonely. It felt lonely – even from the she-cat’s primary entrance, she could already see dark hallways and spacious rooms, the living room droning into every other part of the house like a despondent, dull lullaby. The couches were old and gray with age, and a cabinet from across the table seemed to hold a display of tiny, golden nugget-like antique jewelries.

Antique… that was another way to describe the home for sure. As Micheala took a few delicate steps forwards, her gaze led her like a ping-pong ball to all the sepia-toned paintings and photographs framed and hooked on the wall, staring down at her with tailored nostalgia. One in specific, one that especially caught Micheala’s eye for reasons she couldn’t quite explain, was of a woman – younger than Addison, for sure – staring with smiling eyes and a big, open grin towards the camera, her tones plastered by time but the central image of eternal happiness and youth still intact.

The tabby stared, feeling some sort of warm, sad longing inside of herself, before she shook her head and moved on.

Well… I just hope wherever that girl is, that she’s okay. She seems really sweet – like most people!

… Hmm…

Micheala gave one last fleeting, mysteriously mournful look at the living room before she headed on into the hallway.

Padded by an old, musky carpet, the small tabby found herself trapped once again in that familiar nostalgic sadness. (It seemed almost inescapable in this house, didn’t it?) While subtle, the tinge it left on her heart was undeniable, and it left her feeling equally comforted, sad, and absolutely befuddled. It was like feeling homesick for something she couldn't even place her paw on, an air of unrecognizable mystery similar to that surrounding her supposed dreams. She sighed under her breath and watched the walls as she wobbled by, each and every one plastered with the same off-white cream and occasionally hung with rusted ornaments or sepia-soaked photo frames. It felt like a museum for the specific lost and found.

As she stole her gaze away again and began her dampened march down the hallway (and, considering the structure she had seen thus far, most likely into another hallway or empty room), Micheala scoured her brain for answers to why this place seemed so… desolate. Was Stella lonely? Was her owner? The tabby couldn’t really remember everything Stella had told her about her owner – it was a stout, old man and he lived alone though, right? Stella had mentioned previously that he loved collecting tiny shrines but barely did so anymore, that he rarely left the house besides to get groceries, that he hated company and neighbors, something about him leaving for a while once a year or so…

BUMP. Micheala struggled to hold back a startled squeak as she fumbled herself nose-first into a large, towering cabinet. She stumbled back, clumsily regained her balance, and took a few moments to lament over her squished nose. Ouch. Well, that was stupid of me, jeez!

But… on that note, I barely even remember seeing Stella’s old man! I know he took her in as a pup, too, but she hates us coming inside and likes staying outside most of the time. The tabby twitched an ear as she raked her mind for more. Stella’s always been funky about small spaces, though. Guess she’s lucky that she got such a huge house then, haha! This is like – a mansion!! It’s huge…!

… I should also probably walk around this instead of just floating behind it like an idiot.

Twitching her whiskers, the tabby navigated herself around the set of drawers only to find herself staring through a dark tunnel to what she assumed was the kitchen, where – aha, there was Stella! And, as presumed, her elderly owner was crouched as he stroked her head, a warm, tender smile wide on his face.

The tabby slid backwards into the shadows as she perked her ears for noise.

Stella’s owner really was an old man, leaning on his crutch of a walking stick as he scratched the golden spaniel between the ears. He was portly and stout, with large canyons driven deep underneath his eyes and glasses perched tightly between the wrinkles of his nose. His mouth moved slowly and quietly, and despite how nosy the tabby was trying desperately to be, she couldn’t quite grasp a single word he was saying. Dang.

Then, as he gave Stella one last friendly scuff over the head, he mumbled something like ‘good girl’, and then headed at tortoise pace in the other direction, mumbling incoherently under his breath as he waddled in tight steps towards another hallway-room. Micheala’s bright blue eyes followed him as he stepped, each foot moving gingerly and shuffled across the room. He seems… a lot more dull than Tom. Jeez, I hope he’s okay… I wonder why Stella was with him for so long –

“Micheala!”

“AH-!!”

Practically falling backwards in her shock, Micheala immediately – in a quite a panic, too – identified the voice as Stella’s and felt the obvious shame curdle through her as a result. Shit, shit, shiiiit, please don’t hate me. “Um, Stella, I’m—”

“Why did you follow me in here? I said I’d be out in just a minute!” Stella huffed irritably, her brown eyes staring down at Micheala.

The tabby, still laying dumbly on her back, winced. “Um well I -- I just, I started thinking about what happened, a-and, I just got… scared…”

The spaniel rolled her eyes and, despite the motion not being entirely serious, Micheala still felt a twinge of shame in her heart. “Silly, I would’ve been out in just a second! Did you see him anywhere near you?”

“No…”

“Then you had no reason to be scared, you doof!” Stella barked with a slight smile, giving the tabby a sharp nudge. The tabby, in response, quickly clambered to her paws in a few clumsy motions. “You’re fine, kay? Just don’t worry about it – now, c’mon, Mich!”

Still feeling her pelt prickle with slight humiliation, Micheala stared with lowered ears towards Stella’s figure as it hustled into the darkness. After a few seconds of soaking in the lonely atmosphere once again, the tabby sucked in her breath, sighed, and reluctantly followed. I guess Stella was right… it was silly of me to be scared. Jeez, Micheala, get it together, or, something, I dunno…

… I hope she doesn’t hate me.

 Before long they had both squeezed their way from out of the house, Micheala following sluggishly in Stella high paced footsteps. She felt betrodden in shame by only a few select words and phrases and, despite knowing Stella probably didn’t mean such things in a sour way, the tabby felt hurt and sad and ashamed and humiliated and she really kinda wanted to disappear. But when the spaniel turned her head, a grin on her muzzle, the tabby feigned joy and smiled too. I don’t… want her to think I’m an even bigger baby for being hurt by what she said… I’ll just, not think about it, I guess. I don’t want Stella to, like… think I’m dumb. Or too sensitive, or something.

I don’t even know if she would but I don’t want to ruin things and – well, yeah, I’ll just. She gave one look over her shoulder at Stella’s house, huge and big and empty and lonely. Desolate. Ignore this. I’m just dumb, and I don’t wanna ever risk the possibility of Stella even maybe hating me.

“C’mon, Mich! I’ll race you across the road – there’s no cars or anything, either!”

Yeah.

“C-Coming!” Micheala choked out, whirling around and breaking into a sprint as fast as her stubby little legs would allow. At the same time, she couldn’t help but wish that there were actually some cars speeding by, as if the act of running across then would award her some magic treasure of bravery and honor in the spaniel’s eyes. I mean – that way I could show Stella I wasn’t such a coward, right?

“Hahaha, I’ve already got an advantage!”

The tabby abruptly lifted her head, temporarily and quickly dragged back to reality. “H-hey, no fair…!!” Thoughts pushed aside for the moment, the tabby gave a wheeze and a hurried push as she continued her mad dash across the grass, pawpads sliding against the mud and as a result leaving dirty tracks in her wake. “You’re already ahead of me, and -- and you’re faster!!”

Pausing once she had successfully crossed the street, Stella threw a wide grin over her shoulder. “Pssssh, we’ll have a true rematch later then! A more fair one.”

Micheala, arriving many seconds after Stella had with twice the effort, fought to catch her breath. “Riiight…!!” She wheezed.