KiKi

The cat pulls in the noodles so carefully, as if this thin thread holds not only dinner but the fragile order of the universe. He looks on with that quiet amazement that appears only before warm food and small pockets of peace. And while the cat eats, nothing matters — not the street noise, not the rushing world, not the forgotten tasks. There is only him, the noodles, and a gentle evening that asks for nothing in return.