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Rule number 6:
Don't believe a thing they say about how great love is
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The weekend came sooner than she’d expected. Class had worn her out, but for the first time since starting her degree she felt like she’d have something else to look forward to on the weekend other than the piles of homework and coursework.
Spoon had more or less grown accustomed to the environment over the course of the week, sometimes popping in and out of the window during the day. Viola would fill up a soup bowl with some food she’d found in the market for cheap, watching Spoon devour his meal with a good appetite, bringing a smile to her face each time.
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The cat became a staple alarmingly fast, napping on their couch during the days and alternating between beds to curl in during the nights. It brought some variety and sunshine into their daily lives that they never even realized they were missing. This blissful time only lasted for the most fleeting of moments before it had to come crashing down.
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Viola was finishing up her shift at the café and getting ready to close up. The weight of studying full-time and balancing a part-time job on the side was not a new thing, but sometimes it still crept up to her when she least expected it. She was never the biggest fan of cleaning up alone as her shift ended, but lately it seemed to become more and more of a frequent task for her to do. And she didn’t mind all that much, she told herself, as long as she was getting paid, she’d do whatever it took. Maybe not enjoy it too much, but she’d get it done.
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She toyed with the keys to the store in her hands as someone entered, the chiming of the bells all-too-familiar. She knew (or more so hoped) it couldn’t be a customer, as she’d already turned off the lights and cleaned up the entire place, chairs on table and all, which should signal to anyone that the place was closed. She looked up, ready to tell off a patron with poor ideas of boundaries when she came face-to-face with him again. Only this time, his hand held a stack of papers, his hair tousled and breath unsteady, as if he’d just been running.
“Can I help you?” she sighed out, taking time to further analyze the state he was in. His eyes were closed, but she could see the tiredness that laid in them, like he hadn’t slept all week. Did he even come to get coffee these days? She couldn’t remember seeing him all week. Not that she would even care. His shirt was wrinkled and worn-out, something that people would use as a sleeping shirt because their parents said it was still usable. Though he never looked terrible, this time it was pretty close.
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“Yes, yes you can,” Alex spoke, finally having caught his breath. His eyes shot open and darted to meet hers. “Can I tape something onto the window? It’ll take a minute at most, so just, please let me,” he said, a hint of desperation in his voice, something she’d never heard before in their limited interactions.
“It’s past closing time already, I can’t really help you there, and even if I could it’s not my call to make, you’d have to check with a manager, so please leave now. Come back tomorrow if you want,” Viola said, keeping a professional, distant note in her voice as she spoke, just as she would to any other customer.
“Are you kidding me? I… Fuck, okay fine, it’s fine, I’ll just come back tomorrow. Oh and take one of these, please let me know if you see this cat, she’s missing,” Alex huffed out in frustration, placing a flier into her hands and bolted out the door, leaving Viola behind him in the dark café all by herself.
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She breathed out something reminiscent of a laugh and lifted the piece of paper in her hands to take a better look at it.
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“We stole a cat,” Viola informed as soon as she walked into the apartment, where Mina was sitting with Spoon in her lap, tv playing an episode of some sitcom and cup of tea in hand.
“I like to think of it more as the cat adopting us, but please elaborate,” Mina spoke, eyebrows arched in curiosity.
“We stole his cat, oh my god this is his cat!” Viola said, voice hitching up as she shoved the missing cat-poster in her roommate's face. “Same eyes, same cute nose!! It’s him!! Or her? I guess? It says its name is Donna,” she continued, failing to ease the panic rising in her chest.
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“Huh, I guess so. You should give him a call then,” her roommate spoke nonchalantly, shrugging her shoulders and taking a sip of her tea. Chamomile, as it eased her in the nights and helped her sleep better.
“Why me? You know I can’t do that, he’s like… the person I most despise in this entire world and calling him about this would be humiliating. What would I even say? Hey dude, I have your cat. Yes I stole her. She’s been living with me for days now, ooops, sorry! No way in hell am I calling him,” Viola ranted, feeling the anxiety bloom in her chest. It made little sense even to her why this was such a big deal to her, but it was. Her mind was blowing it out of proportion, making her feel like the world was crumbling. But it wasn’t, even though she had a hard time convincing herself of it.
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“Listen, you brought the cat in, you can guide her back home. It won’t be that bad, and besides I’m sure he’ll appreciate it a lot.” She hated how much her roommate’s words always made sense. Even in her illogical state of mind she knew the other girl was right, no matter how reluctant she was to admit.
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She sighed. “I know, I’ll try. Maybe I’ll just text him about it. But after that I really hope our paths stop crossing like this, it feels like fate is laughing right at me, taunting me for how stupid I am,” Viola spoke, taking the flier back into her own hands and looking at the numbers printed on it in stark ink. He must’ve used the school’s printer for the flier, judging by the way the color used of Spoon- Donna was in full color, if not a little splotchy. The paper had crinkled from where she’d been gripping on it during her entire walk home as she tried to make sense of kidnapping this poor cat.
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The numbers on the paper stared back at her, daringly, almost mockingly. She groaned. Though she hated it, she had to be an adult about the entire situation and let the rightful owner know. She punched in the numbers into her phone, trying to think of what to say. She hesitated as she saved his number into her phone, not quite sure what to name him as, but ultimately settled on Spoon’s owner. That way it wasn’t personal, right?
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She snapped a quick picture of Spoon (she couldn’t remember to call her Donna), sending it to Alex, quickly following it with a text saying “I think I have your cat”. Her head hurt from anxiety as she pressed send. She didn’t have much time to mull it over as the reply had already come.
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Thank you so much, that’s her. Where can I come to pick her up? Who is this?
a/n this is so late and so short, sorry about that, i'll try to get back into writing this lol, not proof-read
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