The first time, I thought it was a coincidence. A strange creature — eyes far too large, fur tousled as if combed by a whirlwind. It walked with the elegance of something that had once been royalty in another realm and stopped at my door as if demanding entry.
I drove it away. Reluctantly.
The second time, it came in as if it knew the way. It ignored me completely, sprawled over my books, stared at the ceiling as though deciphering invisible symbols. When I shooed it off, it merely yawned — as if granting me the win.
The third time was yesterday. I found it asleep on the couch, precisely where my grandmother used to nap before she disappeared from this world with her heavy silences. Next to the creature, a shirt button identical to the one I buried with her.
Today, I didn’t try to send it away. Have I adopted it?
It watches me as I write this — eyes that seem to hold ancient maps and forgotten promises. There is something in it — not threat, but purpose. As if it's not here for me, but for something I have yet to understand.
Maybe it’s waiting for me to remember something.
Maybe it is the reminder.
Or maybe… I’m the one who left, and it’s the one who stayed.
And now it wants answers.