nocturne

He parks on his yard next to his house, gets out of his car, and sees a small black cat staring at him.

“Hello mister guy,” he says.

The cat stares at him.

“Mister guy, are we hungry? Are we a hungry guy?”

The cat doesn’t move.

He steps toward the cat slowly, cautiously, but the cat immediately sprints down the sidewalk and across the road and out of sight.

He goes into his house, says hi to his girlfriend, and digs his hand into the sack of cat food on the pantry shelf. One of his cats comes trotting into the room and waits in front of his bowl.

“No, not for you, buddy. You get to starve. This is for Nocturne.”

“Who is Nocturne?” she asks from the other room.

“I met a cat friend and he’s black and his name is Nocturne,” he says.

“Oh, nice,” she says from the other room.

He finds a plate and sets the dry cat food on the plate and goes outside and sets it on the porch for Nocturne, if he returns.