Filmark Giri
I’m John, a resident of Sequester, where the days unfold in a constant mist of chill and gray. I prefer my own company, and as the chapters of my life unfold, I’ve found solace in the quiet moments. It’s not always bad, but sometimes, it does get a bit lonely.
One Saturday, my mother called, inviting me to join her at the park. I gladly accepted, though I hadn’t done my laundry and had to wear my old shirt. Surprisingly, it still fit, making me feel like I was back in my teenage years. Stepping outside, a cold breeze greeted me as I walked to my mother’s house. We don’t meet often, so seeing her again was a delight. She wore her red scarf, a gift from my late father. Her smile revealed more wrinkles, adding character to her face.
Walking down a familiar road, we arrived at an old park. Memories flooded back as I remembered wiping my tears on her red scarf. We sat by the fountain, enjoying a tuna sandwich my mom had packed for me.
After walking my mother home, I heard rustling behind a thick, dark bush by her front porch. There, I saw a thin cat with big blue eyes and fluffy white fur. It was a pleasing sight, though the cat hissed defensively as I extended my hands. Requesting leftovers from my mother, I was lucky to find the last piece of a tuna sandwich. Removing the bread, I earned the cat’s trust by feeding it.
Day after day, I tried to win its trust. I left out cans of tuna and a bowl of cat food, spoke soft words, and extended the warmth of my palm as proof of the companionship I desired. The cat, whom I named Tunny, eventually returned the favor. Holding her in my arms, I brought her to my house. Whenever I felt isolated, Tunny would jump onto my lap, purring with affection. The memory of wiping my tears on my mother’s red scarf always cheered me up, bringing a new atmosphere to my gloomy days.
However, one day, Tunny didn’t stop by. Days passed, and without her, I started to worry. It felt like the day in the park when my one and only friend told me that she was leaving town for good.
After a week, as I prepared to visit my mother, I heard meowing. It was Tunny, and along with her, I heard other squeaky cries-it was her kittens, a litter of six. No wonder she took so long to bring all of them here. A genuine smile adorned my face as I embraced the warmth of our little family-a family that emerged from the misty and cold town, proving that even in the cloudiest days, the light of the sun would find its way.
