One eye was green, while the other was gold. It blinked at me, stood up slowly, stretched as if time were no concern, and then turned away.
I felt it—not out loud, but in my chest: Follow that cat.
So I descended from the roof and followed. I had no idea where I was headed. I have no idea why I believed it. But I did. The cat moved as though it were familiar with all the world's shortcuts. It didn't just belong to the streets; it belonged to something older.
Every time I believed I’d lost it, I’d catch a glimpse of its tail or the shimmer of its eyes, just enough to keep me going. It never spoke, but it never needed to. There was something guiding me that didn't require words.
Perhaps I wasn't pursuing the cat.
Perhaps I was pursuing a lost part of myself—
Curiosity, courage, and wonder.
And what happens if I catch it?
I'm not sure what I'll discover.
But I know I'll be different once I do.
So I continue.
No map.
No plan.
Just believe in the mystery.
And the cat is always just a few steps ahead.