The day dawned with that kind of sky that says nothing, but hints at everything. Marcel arrived at the bar like every morning, with his calm stride, his faithful broom, and the same feeling that something inside the place was breathing to the beat of his heart. Alessandra was waiting for him at the entrance.

"Oh, Marcel, that's you! How are you doing?" -Alessandra asked, with that smile that made the broom fall to the floor by itself.

"Bonjour, Alessandra! How are you?" -Marcel asked.

"I am doing okay!" -Alessandra said. "Today's a special night for us."

"Une nuit spéciale? That's fantastique! Tell me, what's it all about? Are there candles, musique… or something even more mysterious?" -Marcel asked, surprised of what Alessandra has said.

"Not really. You were close! But first, do you want to go with me when it happens?" -Alessandra asked him.

He nodded. He didn't ask where. He never did.

"Why is so special that night, huh?" -Someone said. "Are you...? Oh, no. You gotta be kiddin' me! This is amazing, brother!"

Squall was the one who said it. In his disbelief, he believed Alessandra and Marcel were now lovebirds.

"Squall, this isn't your business." -Alessandra said, annoyed by his presence. "Why won't you do something with your life for once and get in your own business?"

"Shut up, your vermin!" -Squall said, in a machist tone. "It's my life and i do whatever i wish with it. Also, why won't YOU do something with your life for once and go home to clean the dishes instead of losing your time with this cat with autism level monstrosity?"

Marcel feeled offended.

"Hey! Ça suffit! That was aggressive. Understand that I have autism… so please don't talk to me like that. Je fais de mon mieux, even if it doesn't always seem that way." -Marcel said, offended.

"Oui oui, omelette du fromage! Can you please stop mixing french with english? This is America, kid." -Squall said.

"He has autism, Squall," -Alessandra said. "So, accept the truth, please!"

==========================================================================================================================================================================

(7:30 AM)

Once again, the shift ended when the bar clock chimed. That, apparently, meant it was closing time.

Squall is lounging on a barrel, sharpening his claws, surrounded by a group of cats who laugh at his remarks. Alessandra, with a face filled with anger, went closer to him.

"How much longer will you persist in this behavior, Squall? Your judgment of Marcel is shallow and unfounded." -Alessandra said, firmly.

"Oh, dear Alessandra, don’t tell me you’ve fallen under the absurd fascination for that FUCKING loser. What quality does he possess that makes him stand out? His awkward gait? His wandering gaze? Or perhaps his utter lack of refinement?" -Squall asked her.

The cats around him, suppously Squall's friends, bursted into laughter. Marcel, who happens to be going with her, heared the conversation and lowers his ears uncomfortably but did not intervene. Alessandra did a step forward, visibly irritated.

"Your words only expose your blindness. Marcel is much more than what he appears to be. But of course, you only stop at the obvious, without delving into what truly matters." -Alessandra said, once again, firmly, but now defiant.

Squall streched with feigned boredom.

"Ah, the eternal argument of inner beauty from the fairytales! A touching notion, no doubt… but tell me, dear, if beauty truly resided within, why does no one bother to look beyond the surface?" -Squall said.

With feline agility, Squall standed up and began pacing around Alessandra and the other cats, with a sly grin.

"Because the world adores the gleaming, the elegant, the distinguished… but Marcel… oh… Marcel…" -Squall said. He suddenly stoped, casting a theatrically conspiratorial glance at the cats, as if about to reveal a great secret.

"Marcel is not that special!" -Squall said, while laughing smugly.

Alessandra, instantly, punched him in the face, right on the nose. Marcel was surpised with what he saw. Alessandra finally teached him a lession, not from the good, but from the bad.

"YOU STUPID BITCH!" -Squall said, irritated.

They both leaved the place, in way to the place Alessandra promised him to go.

==========================================================================================================================================================================

(8:30 PM)

The place seemed ripped from a dream that was too well designed. An old garden, surrounded by twisted trees, rusty benches, and flowers that seemed to murmur to each other. In the center, a clock tower that had forgotten how to tell time, but not how to command respect.

Alessandra approached with two soft steps, as if the grass shouldn't notice.

"Have you ever danced a waltz under the pale moonlight?" -Alessandra asked Marcel.

Marcel shook his head shyly.

"No… pas vraiment. But I want to try. Je veux essayer." -Marcel said.

And she took his hand. They danced. Awkwardly at first. He counting mentally. She correcting without words. Their feet made mistakes, but their bodies understood each other. They twirled beneath a half-embarrassed moon, between the breeze and the flowers open like curious ears.

Marcel was feeling love for the first time. He didn't have love ever. It was the first time he feeled it since... 12 years ago. They danced under the pale moonlight, as the night's wind seemed to direct their dance. It was... beautiful. Marcel has found love on someone. Someone that really understands him. Someone that... cares about him.

They danced in the roof of the building surrounding the garden. The sight of St. Louis was clear and beautiful. All the city could be seen. Step by step, dance by dance, move through move, their dance slowly became in a fluently waltz. What could happen if Marcel said at the first moment she asked him if he wanted to go somewhere.

Most importantly... is that Marcel didn't feel he was dancing with Alessandra really. He didn't feel that. He feeled that... he was dancing with someone that has passed away years ago. Someone that... was part of his family. Someone that wanted to care about him but couldn't... who would that be? They danced hours and hours, until 11:30 PM.

Their waltz ended down on the garden.

But before they made a true love's kiss, when the moment cried out for that kiss... a shadow slipped across the roof of the tower. A crunch. A falling object. A flowerpot with murderous intent flying straight toward Marcel's head.

"BEWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARE!" -Alessandra yelled.

She pushed him just in time. The flowerpot crashed where he'd been standing, leaving a circle of dirt and scattered flowers. They both fell to the ground. He on top of her. She, her heart racing.

"Are you okay?" -Alessandra whispered.

He nodded. They looked at each other. And this time there was no hesitation. Their lips were going to meet, shy, sincere. A kiss that would be... magical. Such an unexpected miracle.

*DONG.*

But when the kiss was going to be fulfilled, the traitorous tower struck the first stroke of midnight. Marcel jerked away. He stood up in a panic.

"I have to go! Je dois partir, maintenant! Sorry… vraiment." -Marcel said, scared.

"What? Why? What's going on?" -Alessandra asked with confussion.

"I can't explain it… desolé. I must go now! Je suis désolé, vraiment… mais je dois parte maintenant!" -Marcel said, in a desperate tone.

And he ran off. Alessandra, bewildered, went after him.

"Wait, don't go!" -Alessandra said.

As she descended the stairs, one of his glass slippers was left behind, like a tear that had fallen in her haste. Alessandra picked it up, puzzled.

*DONG.*

*DONG.*

*DONG.*

The clock screamed that time was running out. Marcel crossed half the city in silence, running as if the moon were chasing him. When he reached McGee Mansion, he crossed the gate, climbed the steps, and…

*DONG.*

He slipped through the mini cat flap just in time.

*DONG.*

His body transformed in an instant. Where there had once been an anthropomorphic gray cat, there was now a normal gray cat, its eyes wide with fear and its chest heaving. Miss Alice was in the living room, with a book in one hand and a glass of tea in the other.

"Late again, darling?" -Miss Alice asked, and looking down, she saw him. "Oh... but it's you!"

Marcel nodded, as best he could.

"Are you feeling alright?" -Miss Alice asked.

He explained everything to her: the tower, the dance, the kiss, the curse of time. Alice listened with the calmness of someone who has raised worse creatures.

"So love also has you on a schedule. How romantic. And how tragic." -Miss Alice said.

"Désolé," -Marcel said, his head down. "I know I should have come back sooner, but... I just wanted... to feel you like the others."

Alice hugged him.

"Remember one thing, my boy: you don't have to be like everyone else for someone to love you. You don't even have to be who you think you should be. You have to be you. Now. With everything. With your oddities, your slow words, your strange questions. There's no clock worth more than that." -Miss Alice said.

She accompanied him to his room. Marcel slept with his head full of waltzes, clocks, and moonlit lips.

==========================================================================================================================================================================

(The next day...)

"Desolé about yesterday, madmoiselle," -Marcel said to Alessandra at the entrance to the bar. "I have... a time to come home. At midnight."

She looked at him. Then she smiled.

"Like... in fairytales..." -Alessandra said.

"Yes..." -Marcel said, somewhat embarrassed.

She came closer. She gave him back the glass slipper... putting it on his paw. It fitted perfectly.

"Well, next time you're running, try not to leave your shoes behind. They seem to be expensive." -Alessandra advised him.

Marcel giggled, so did she.

And without thinking much, she kissed him... on the cheek.

"I'll wait for you. But next time… I want you to tell me everything. Even if it's weird." -Alessandra said.

Marcel noddled.

"I will." -Marcel said.

And the hands of the clock, without anyone seeing them, turned one more time.