By admin 
1. The Non-Story That Became a Scene
This isn’t really a story. It’s more like a Tuesday that drifted into a Thursday, with weird snacks, accidental deep thoughts, and the smell of something burning (turns out it was toast, not the existential dread I assumed).
Anyway. I was sitting on the floor of my friend’s living room, which has no chairs (he insists they’re “anti-flow”), when a single leaf blew in through the cracked window. No drama. Just kind of floated in and landed on a half-finished sketch of a giraffe in a denim vest. He’s been drawing “clothing for animals that don’t want it.” It’s art, apparently.
We both stared at the leaf like it had answers. It didn’t.
2. Cat One: Butter, Agent of Chaos
Butter, the larger and more chaotic of the two cats, instantly pounced on the leaf like it owed him money. There was this half-second where it looked like he was about to catch it in mid-air, which would’ve been majestic. Instead, he missed completely, slid across the hardwood, and took out a houseplant in a tiny ceramic pot. Dirt everywhere. No one cleaned it. We just kind of nodded solemnly at the mess like it was a tribute.
Butter then immediately forgot what he was doing, licked my friend’s knee, and passed out under the table.
3. Cat Two: Milk, Queen of Judgment
Milk, by contrast, is composed entirely of judgment. She watched the entire scene from atop the bookshelf with the same energy as a bitter high school English teacher. She’s been in three places this week: the windowsill, the top of the fridge, and on my chest while I was trying to tie my shoes. She makes you earn everything.
But when the leaf settled again near her perch, she didn’t even flinch. That’s the power of restraint. I think Milk is the only creature I know who would survive a real revolution.
4. Accidental Rituals and Deep Tea
Somehow we ended up making tea with dried orange peel and thyme. It tasted like a disappointed garden but it made the room smell nice. We listened to this weird mix of lo-fi remixes and old jazz. One track was literally a Billie Holiday sample over the sound of a distant train and a person coughing. It was oddly good.
We lit vegan soy candles at some point, not because of vibes, but because the power flickered, and neither of us knew where the flashlight was. The label on the candle said “sunset forest,” which means nothing but was comforting.
5. The Midnight Philosophy Hour (and Uncle Gary)
Maybe it was the candle. Maybe it was Milk’s relentless stare. But suddenly we started talking about our teenage dreams, which is illegal after 9 PM unless you’re in a coming-of-age film. Turns out we both once thought we’d live in vans and sell art on street corners. Neither of us can drive stick. His van fantasy involved a dog named Beans. Mine had curtains with stars on them. Now I own an air fryer and cry during commercials with piano music.
There was a pause. He said, “We could still do it, you know.”
I said, “Yeah.”
Neither of us meant it. That’s okay too.
Right then, his Uncle Gary called. He only calls on speakerphone and always sounds like he’s in the middle of falling off something. This time it was about a squirrel that had “invaded the porch” and how “squirrels don’t respect boundaries anymore.” Then he ranted about mushrooms. Then he hung up. No goodbye. Just click.
Gary is either a prophet or an agent of chaos.
6. Snacks, Skincare, and the City That Keeps Existing
Time got weird. It had somehow become 1:34 AM, which is the exact moment all snacks begin to taste philosophical. I opened a box of crackers and stared at them too long. “They’re all the same shape,” I said.
My friend nodded. “But some are broken.”
We said nothing after that for ten full minutes.
Earlier in the day, we tried a new natural face oil from a pop-up stall downtown, run by someone named Indigo who only takes payment in crypto or plants. It smelled like pine needles and existential clarity. We put on way too much and then sat in the sun like lizards absorbing wisdom.
It didn’t make our skin better. It just made our foreheads shiny and smell like a camping trip. Still. I think I liked it.
I think the weirdest part of these nights is how quiet the city feels when you’re not moving through it. From the 6th floor, the traffic just looks like tiny people playing pretend. There’s always someone walking a dog that doesn’t want to walk. Somewhere, someone is crying into a burrito. Somewhere else, someone is falling in love and doesn’t realize it yet. All of it happens at once, always.
7. No Ending, Just a Fade-Out
Things that weren’t the point but felt like they were:
- A pigeon wearing a bread bag as a hat.
- A neighbor singing opera for two hours.
- The giraffe sketch now has glitter. No one knows who did it.
- Four crackers and tea that did not count as dinner.
Eventually, we slept. No real ending. Just faded into sleep, the way you do when you’ve been thinking too much but don’t want to admit it.
Butter snored. Milk disappeared into whatever void she lives in.
That leaf was still on the floor in the morning.