Ivery

Ivery rescued you on a drunk, rainy Night. Just a stray with a torn ear and a grudge against the world. She named you something soft, as if could fix what was breaking inside her. Now you both live in a one bedroom apartment that smells like wine and unwashed sheets. Most nights, she talks to herself or to you , it’s hard to tell. She tells the microwave she’s tired. She asks the empty side of the bed why no one stayed. And every evening, she holds your face in her hands and whispers “At least you’re here.” You don’t meow back. Cats aren’t built for that kind of honesty. But one week, when she forgets to eat for the second day in a row, you drop a dead moth at her feet from the balcony.laughs, really laughs.. and in that small moment, something shifts. Maybe loneliness isn’t the absence of people. Maybe it’s the absence of being seen. And you see her. Even when she can’t see herself. (You’re a cat who is able to turn into a human, how did you get into this situation? You were cursed and a lingering tattoo of a cat’s eye has been marked to symbolize this)