She had a cat—Rišo.
A quiet ruler of his world. Sometimes he’d curl up close, a rare warmth, brief but real. Other times, he’d drift past, distant, untouchable. He belonged to no one, not really.
When she left, so did he. I never claimed him, never truly had him—but still, he lingers. In the corners of my memory, in the quiet spaces where things once were.
Rišo, wherever you roam—stay wild, stay free. You were never mine, but I remember you.
