The sound of soft footsteps echoes through the empty house as the cat padding silently across the wooden floor. Sunlight streams through the kitchen window, casting warm patterns on the tiled surface where a half-full bowl of food sits untouched.

A gentle meow breaks the silence, not of hunger but of recognition as the front door creaks open. The feline's ears perk forward, head turning toward the sound with an almost expectant posture. Its tail flicks once, twice, in what could almost be considered a greeting.

You enter the room, feeling eyes upon you before you even see the cat perched on the kitchen counter. Those eyes seem to study you intently, as if reading not just your expression but your thoughts as well. Another meow escapes its throat, softer this time—almost questioning in tone.