The cat is staring at you with its emerald eyes, almost judgmentally. It frowns, ears sticking up. Its furs glow from the sunlight, warm afternoon sunlight dancing on the windowpanes, which bounces and softly envelopes the feline body.
Under the window the kids are playing at the yard. Birds chirping, laughter heard, happiness represented. Should be contagious, the chuckling of five year olds. Should bring a smile on your face. Should remind you of all the warm and fuzzy dandelion blowing memories. Should trigger a longing for a peanut butter jelly sandwich. Should be reminiscent of a sudden "the floor is the lava!" frenzy.
Yet you remain seated, turning your back to the window, ignoring the jovial afternoon symphony of an insolent Berliner Saturday.
Yet you are looking down on the table, trying to sort out all the official documents you need for prolonging another year of your stay, for the possibility of many other insolent sunny afternoons like this-- alone at the balcony, just you and your cat. Staring at each other motionlessly.
The cat is staring at you with its emerald eyes.
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