Chapter 4
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He was holding a plastic bag from the supermarket containing a small can. Fancy Feast. I’d only seen it in TV commercials—ridiculously expensive cat food that lived up to its name.
“How did you know…”
“Know what?” He handed me the bag. “That cats also appreciate the finer things in life?”
I didn’t press further. He always had a way of making my questions seem pointless.
The two orange cats at the street corner—one fat, one thin—were dozing in the shadow of someone’s yard wall. They were so used to me, the “community ghost,” they didn’t even bother opening their eyes.
Imitating what I’d seen on TV, I pulled the tab of the can open. Immediately, a rich aroma of meat sauce spread out. The fat one moved first, twitching its nose and jumping down from the wall with surprising agility.
I squatted down, placed the can on the ground, and slowly backed away.
The two cats approached, lowering their heads and eating voraciously. Sunlight illuminated their orange fur like melting gold. As I watched them, something stirred in a forgotten corner of my heart.
The fat orange cat finished eating, licked its mouth, and tentatively walked toward me. It circled my feet twice, brushing against my pant leg with its whiskers, creating a ticklish sensation.
I held my breath and cautiously reached out to stroke its back.
It was warm and fluffy, a satisfied purr rumbling from its body. The sound wasn’t loud, but it felt like a gentle electric current flowing from my fingertips straight to my heart. I never knew a living, warm creature could feel like this.
“So, what’s it like ten years from now?” I didn’t look back, my eyes still fixed on the cat.
“Hmm… things have changed a lot.” Jack’s voice came from behind me. “But some things haven’t changed much.”
“Like what?”
“Hard to say. Oh right, in 2001, whatever you do, don’t go to New York.”
His tone was casual, as if he were just saying “it might rain tomorrow,” yet it made my heart sink. It was a heaviness that didn’t belong to my time.
“Aren’t I supposed to die before this winter ends?” I reminded him.
Silence from his end. I turned to see him scratching the back of his head, looking embarrassed.
“Oh, right.”
I almost laughed out loud. This self-proclaimed messenger from the future didn’t seem so all-knowing after all.
Just then, an elderly but gentle voice came from the porch of the house behind us: “Their names are Jinjie and Fred.”
I turned to see an elderly woman with silver hair standing behind the screen door, a kind smile on her face. She wore a floral apron and held a wooden spoon.
“Are you children who just moved in? Thank you for feeding them.”
“No, we’re from a school nearby.” I stood up nervously.
“Would you like to come in for some lemonade, children?” The old lady pushed open the screen door. “I just baked cookies.”
I looked at Jack, and he nodded at me.
Inside the old lady’s house, a warm, sweet aroma of lemon and cinnamon cookies filled the air. On the mantelpiece above the fireplace, old photo frames displayed a kind-looking elderly man and children who must be her grandchildren. A grandfather clock in the corner ticked unhurriedly.
Everything here was the complete opposite of my home. My house was cold, quiet as a tomb. But here, life breathed in every corner.
The old lady, Mrs. Williams, told us her husband had passed away a few years ago, and her children all worked in other cities. These two cats were her only companions.
She poured lemonade for us and pushed a plate of still-warm cookies toward us.
“You are such good children,” she looked at us with eyes that seemed to see her own grandchildren. “You remind me of my little granddaughter; she is also kind like you, just a bit shy.”
I held the glass, water droplets condensing on its cold surface. This was the first time a stranger had praised me like this. Not for my grades, not for anything else, just because I had fed a cat.
I felt an inexplicable warmth enveloping me. It wasn’t coming from the fireplace but from this kind elderly woman, from this room filled with the aroma of cookies and life.
