Episode 5

Clara

As I push my bike, the chaos of traffic catches my attention. Engines roar and people yell, an exchange of insults that quickly dissolves into indifference. I ignore it all and go on my way, absorbing the frantic rhythm of the city.

The heated discussion about Lincoln's photo still echoes in my mind. Bruna and I debate, but deep down, she understood that the figure of this man, my mother's boss, awakened something in me. Something mysterious and disturbing that I still can't decipher.

As I walk, night falls, enveloping the city in a dark cloak. The light from the lampposts reflects on the sidewalks, creating dancing shadows. As I approach the entrance to my house, a high-pitched meow echoes in the air, breaking the silence. Curious, I follow the sound, and as I get closer to the gate, I see a box next to it.

From inside, a small black and white kitten emerges, its eyes shining like tiny lanterns in the darkness. It watches me, seeming as intrigued as I am. Drawn to its fragility, I crouch down, smiling at it.

"Hey, little buddy, are you okay? Who left you here?" I ask, my voice soft and encouraging.

The kitten approaches, its soft purr echoing in the space between us. It rubs its body against my leg, as if it were choosing me, and in that instant, something warm and comforting wells up inside me.

"Hey... they left you here, didn't they? They abandoned you, didn't they?" I say, wrapping the kitten in my arms carefully. It nestles against me, seeking warmth and security, while I feel its tiny body trembling slightly.

I look around, looking for someone who can explain to me why this vulnerable little creature was left here alone. A pang of indignation rises within me. How can someone simply discard such a delicate life like that?

"Don't worry, little buddy. You're with me now," I murmur, gently stroking its head. It closes its eyes, purring, as if understanding that it had found shelter.

I walk towards my house, the weight of the kitten becoming a relief in my arms. As I enter the house, the familiarity of the environment envelops me like a comforting hug.

The walls are adorned with photos of happy moments, bringing back cozy memories. I place the kitten in the chair by the table, while I go to the kitchen to get some food and water for it.

"Look at this, I hope you like it!" I call, coming back with a small bowl and some water. The soft light from the lamp reflects in the kitten's eyes, which watches me with a mixture of curiosity and caution.

I put the food in front of it, and it hesitates for a moment. Then, with a timid gesture, it approaches and begins to take small bites. The soft sound of its chewing echoes in the room, and an involuntary smile appears on my face. It's as if it was allowing itself to trust, and that makes me feel a warmth in my chest.

However, my mind goes back to the conversation with Bruna. The mystery of Lincoln still hangs over me. The man who means so much to my mother, but whose story is still nebulous to me.

The kitten, with its delicate presence, brings comfort, a pause in the worries that haunt me. I decide to give it a name. "Bichano" seems appropriate, a simple name that carries a sincere affection.

As the kitten continues to eat, a part of me still worries about the connection I felt towards Lincoln. What really lies behind that imposing figure that provoked so much fascination in me?

But for now, I decide to put those questions on the back burner, at least until the night affords me a moment of clarity. Sitting on the sofa, I watch Bichano as he explores the room. His movements are agile and curious; he investigates the objects around him, as if each corner revealed a secret.

It's impossible not to smile watching him play with a loose end of thread, his small, nimble paws tangling in the fabric. It becomes a vivid reminder that despite the uncertainties around me, life goes on.

My mother arrives home, and her gaze quickly fixes on Bichano, who is playing happily on the rug, chasing a ball of paper. Her countenance, which was previously relaxed, quickly transforms into an expression of confusion.

"What does this mean, Clara?" she asks, as she approaches, setting her purse aside with a brusque movement.

She observes the little kitten with a mixture of curiosity and concern, her eyes shining in the soft light of the room. The kitten stops for a moment, looks at her with its large pupils, as if it too were trying to understand the situation.

Smiling, I get up from the couch and walk over to her. On an impulse, I hug her tightly, my face pressed against hers, and kiss her softly on the cheek.

"I found him on my way home, Mom..." I say, my voice full of hope. "We can keep him, can't we? Say yes, please."

She hesitates for a moment, the expression of doubt still on her face, but the way the kitten plays, innocent and adorable, seems to melt some of her resistance.

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