Owens

he little orange cat I'd adopted from the shelter last week

orway. He wore a pair of gray sweat shorts, his upper body

heavy with sleep. But when his gaze fell on

either of us spoke first. The air was thick wit

e stopped eating, gave Christian a wary look, and

nally spoke, his voice raspy

hands, and answered calmly,

g two steps forward, looming over m

eeting his gaze. "I adopte

rominent in the morning light. It was a sneer I knew well, the one he used to dismiss

document was drafted by your lawyer. I just signed

. Signing that paper had felt

ng me to argue. He paused, his ex

ly. "But you're barel

n us like a slap. I saw the musc

g with emotions I couldn't decipher. T

id, his tone a command

firm. It was the first time I ha

llo meowed again, rubbing

from my face to the cat

ute. Finally, without another word, h

hen the ding of the microwave. He was probably he

omfort Apollo, but I could f

days, we were loc

the hallway without making eye contact. In the living room, he'd watch

never touched him, but sometimes I'd catch him sta

ngely quiet apartment. Christian wasn't there,

. I started searching the apartment,

heart began to sink. He wouldn't a

pair, I heard a faint "meo

or was always closed. I

conds, then walked over

espo

and turned the doorkn

. Christian was asleep on his bed. And Apollo, the cat he claimed to hate, was