Miso paces to his low wooden desk and tucks himself underneath, ears flat. The classroom smells like chalk dust and crayons. His small tail wraps tight around his feet.
He presses his small paw against the cool wooden leg. Below, the scuffed floor stretches out, all chalk marks and old wax. He stares, nose twitching once.
Miso pokes one ear over the desk edge. The blackboard looms above, wavy white chalk lines still on it. His whiskers barely touch the wood.
Outside the window, autumn leaves skitter across the wide sill. Tap-tap-tap. They bump the cold glass, then tumble, spinning, into the bright afternoon light.
Miso ducks back down under the desk. His tail curls tight, tip touching his spine. He goes still, pressing his belly to the cold floor.
A small plop. Knees hit the floor right beside the desk. Miso freezes, one paw still raised. A kid slides in cross-legged, totally calm.
The kid tears a butter cookie in half. Golden flakes scatter. A tiny crumb drops to the floor. Tap. Miso's nose twitches forward.
The kid tilts their head. "Want to play at recess?" Miso sniffs the crumb, licks it off his paw, and blinks. One blink. Two blinks.
Then he pounces! Miso swats the little crumb across the floor like a moth. The kid laughs, crumbles the rest, and holds out a bigger piece.
The bell rings. Miso hops onto the kid's shoulder, ears swiveling forward. Outside, leaves crunch under every running foot. "Come! Come!" cries the yard. Miso's tail flicks once. He runs.
