Mr. Cat 1

He was looking out the window again. He liked it... He loved it... This extraordinary world below.

A world full of strange things... Interesting, sometimes dangerous... But always worthy of attention, always worth even a glance. Every moment spent staring at the cars passing below, at the people bustling along the narrow cobblestone streets, was a new experience, a new curiosity, framed within the world outside. New information, creating a picture of the place beyond the glass, a place nonetheless inaccessible and beyond reach...q

He sat on the windowsill and stared at the sky... Only it remained a mystery to him, posing questions, yet offering no answers. It simply was... And that was all...

Perhaps that was why it was becoming increasingly intriguing. It splashed at him with mystery, as if waiting for him to jump into the vast pool of unknowns. Perhaps heaven truly hoped so... He had no idea. But he was certain of one thing...

It was truly beautiful... Especially now, as the navy blue cloak of the approaching night, and with it, flocks of stars, slowly enveloped the space above the world outside the window, and the setting sun, turning increasingly scarlet, struggled to be pushed beyond the horizon, as if with the last of its strength. It cast a light red like blood all around... As if it were actually bleeding... The cat could almost feel his pain. He could also feel the warmth of his blood; he liked to wallow in it; it was so pleasant. And only the taste was different...

The cat had only recently realized the pleasure he derived from watching sunsets.

The most beautiful and bloodiest spectacles he had ever witnessed.

And best of all, he could watch them every evening! Completely free! All he had to do was jump onto the windowsill and wait...

And so, every day, at the same time, when the scarlet mingled with the navy blue, he waited.

He sat and waited... To watch the darkness intertwine with the blood, as if mixed by the hand of a great painter, to watch the night thrust its navy blue blades into the bright light, to watch the sun slowly bleed, to watch it writhe, creeping beyond the horizon.

And in all of this, the sky was no longer the most important thing... It was merely a canvas on which someone, every evening, spilled blood and darkness so that the Cat could marvel at their clash.

This someone must have really liked Mr. Cat, to have put so much work into it.

Yes, that was beyond dispute... He liked him, and that was that.

The Cat sat by the window for a moment longer, watching the blood slowly disappear from the canvas.

As it darkened, darkening ever darker, retreating towards the sun, which had just sunk into the horizon. He watched the crimson grow ever browner, as the previously bright and warm blood, once spat out by the sun itself, slowly congealed and turned into a scab.

Eaten away by the night.

In time, no color but black would reign in the sky.

In time, the entire world on the other side of the window would darken, drown in darkness.

In time, rows of street lamps and lights would illuminate, one by one.

In time, people would finally disappear from the streets, and only the Cat, with its dark fur, as if sewn directly from a scrap of pure night, would remain in its place, staring coldly at the world outside. He would smile... And think about what awaited him. What awaited his owners...

How they would cope... How they would face something they couldn't handle because they were too weak.

Mr. Cat knew well that the moments ahead would be even more spectacular than today's sunset.

He felt it deep within his feline nature, only secretly hoping that the future would be painted in an equally crimson color