I Reasonably Suspect That My Cat Is My Ex-Boyfriend

Evidence Five

The sister at the front desk has sent me a collection of annual cat videos one after another. In the past few days, my mobile phone is either displaying the venture capital index curve or making all kinds of strange cat noises.

During the wrap-up meeting on Saturday, the speeches on stage were unbelievably dry.

I sat in the back row, quietly clicked on the latest video, and put my phone on my suit pants to watch it.

Soon I realized a problem.

The cats in the video are always accompanied by sweet, greasy or coquettish calls when interacting with people. When they are angry, they will stare their round eyes, raise their tails and make a "ha" sound. Some chatty cats are like Xianglin Like my sister-in-law, she keeps nagging.

My cat, it seems that since I picked him up, he has rarely heard him cry, and rarely seen him show extreme emotions.

Even when I was caught biting the wires and poking his head with my fingers; when I sent him to take a bath and was pressed on the table by my assistant to blow the air; when I was hungry and found that there was no cat food in the bowl, my cat would Cherish words like gold and keep silent.

Only when I arrive home from a business trip in the middle of the night and put my luggage in the porch in the dark, my cat will come out of the house, walk around my legs with fluttering steps like auspicious clouds, and spill a little or two from my throat. A well-behaved voice, like one or two sighs thrown in the dark night like water, slowly oscillates with the temperature at the feet.My cat thinks of me in my home.

When I first met my ex-boyfriend, he was also taciturn.Nothing seemed to interest him around him, and sometimes I felt like I was talking to a wall.

The girl at the front table said that I was too noisy, and he seemed very calm beside him.I said no, my deskmate was just waiting for a predestined relationship, and that person was me.

The front desk has an expression that you still have to be shameless.

I was bored for a few days, and couldn't hold back anymore: "Hey at the same table, talk to me, you don't need money for chatting." My deskmate raised his hand to write an explanation, and after clicking the colon, he let out a sigh of relief and turned the pen Say: "What are you talking about?"

I was overjoyed, thinking that this guy really got the hang of it, but what he said to chat with me was that when I asked him what he thought after I made a long speech, he selectively made four "hmm" tones according to what I said.

For a while, I secretly called him "four ums" in my heart.

"Are you weird," I said, but I knew he was actually listening carefully, "By the way... look at my deskmate, the one next door is dressed like a guinea fowl today..."

My deskmate "Huh?" for a moment, the corner of his mouth curled into a stiff arc, he turned his head to look, then turned back, and said to me in a serious tone: "You can't say that about others."

My deskmate is really a gentleman.

Later, after we got together with understanding, my tablemate talked more and more.But most of the time I was talking and he was listening.

It may be that I have led it badly, and my deskmate occasionally makes some bold moves, such as rubbing my hair, pinching my face, secretly grabbing my hand under the table, interlocking my fingers, Or in the self-study class where everyone sleeps in their clothes, bowing their heads and pecking my knuckles quickly and accurately.

Until that day when my deskmate asked for leave and went home, he disappeared for three days before returning.

For a whole month after that he became reticent again, even more so than ever.

I asked my deskmate countless times what happened, but he just rubbed my hair and shook his head in silence.

I looked sideways at his blurred face hidden in the mist of the morning jog, and felt faintly uneasy. Then I recalled the scene I ran into when I went to his house earlier, and I felt a little more clear in my heart, but I didn’t know What can I do for him.

The person at my desk has a hard time prying his teeth on things he doesn't want to talk about.

He always likes to keep things in his heart and swallow difficulties into his stomach. He puts away all the floating emotions in his daily life, and replaces them with a frown between his brows knot.

This is really bad.

The relationship between us is also quite helpless.Even if I want to give him a hug, I have to pick the time and place like a guerrilla, hang my heart, watch all directions, and listen to all directions, so that I can only unite my thoughts that I can’t express. The concern rubbed into the hug was stuffed to him.

When I finally forcibly took my deskmate out and pressed him in my arms, it was as if a switch had been turned on, and his weight was all on me in an instant.

I stroke his back.

The body at the same table was trembling, and the voice was broken and choked, and he spoke intermittently.I discerned carefully, those weak sentences quickly scattered and escaped in the darkness, and I only had time to catch a few words like "incurable...", "sister...", "debt...", "father..." .

"If I..." My deskmate choked up again, "If..."

I patted his back lightly: "What if?"

The deskmate hugged me even tighter, so tight that I could barely breathe.

In the end, he still didn’t say a word, buried his face in my neck again and dawdled, and said like a child angrily: “I’m going to make a lot of money in the future.”

My fingers walked along the shape of the butterfly bone at the same table: "Okay, I also want to make a lot of money, and then I won't be afraid of anything."

Years later, every time I recall this scene, I always regret why I didn't ask any more questions.

I walked out of the elevator in a daze, pressed my fingerprints to enter the door, and picked up the cat that came up and hugged it in my arms.

Think about how long it has been since you have talked as much as you used to?

You may not be able to say what you want to say, but you have to force yourself to say what you don’t want to say.I told myself this is life, this is the norm, survival of the fittest.

But I'm still disgusted.

I gently scratched the cat's chin:

"You can get mad at me,"

"If you are unhappy, you have to express it, it's okay,"

"I won't leave you again."

I now reasonably suspect that my cat is my ex-boyfriend.

Evidence five:

My cat doesn't talk much, my cat still has things on her mind