Leo stepped onto the landing and froze. Maya was already there, finger pressed to her lips, shushing something wedged between her door and his. A scruffy tabby cat let out a tiny rumbling purr from the narrow gap. The damp chill of the hallway seeped through his socks. He had lived here for two years and never noticed her door before.
"He's been waiting for two years," Maya whispered. Leo crouched down slowly. The tabby's green eyes blinked at him from the darkness. "Waiting for what?" he asked. She smiled without answering. The cat purred louder, like a tiny engine waking up.
The next morning, rain drummed against Leo's window. He grabbed his coat and headed out, but stopped at the building's back entrance. Two umbrellas leaned there, side by side. One was his. The other was hers. He took the second one without thinking.
When he turned, Maya was already there, holding the other handle. They walked in silence down the wet street, shoulders brushing. At the end of the block, the scruffy tabby appeared and trotted alongside them like a furry little conductor. Leo glanced at Maya. She was smiling.
A week later, Leo stood on his kitchen counter reaching for the sugar. His hand met empty air. He was completely out. He hopped down and marched next door, knocking hard. Maya opened the door holding a half-empty bag and a steaming mug. The tabby was curled on her shoulder like a living scarf.
"Thanks," Leo said. Maya nodded toward the fire escape. Raindrops still clung to the iron rails like glass beads. They sat in comfortable quiet, the city humming below. Leo looked at Maya's window and noticed something new — a yellow sticker shaped like a cat.
On a third visit, Leo climbed out onto the fire escape. Maya was already there, but the tabby wasn't with her. She was crouched near the railing, picking through a pile of damp leaves, frowning. Leo knelt beside her. "Where is he?" he asked.
Leo's fingers brushed one of the leaves. Something small and warm moved underneath. He lifted the leaf carefully. The tabby was curled up, shivering. Maya gasped and wrapped her sweater around the tiny creature. Leo pulled out his pocketknife and cut a strip from his sleeve.
He wrapped the cloth around the cat's paws while Maya held it close. The tabby sneezed — a tiny, ridiculous squeak. Both of them burst out laughing. The sound bounced off the brick walls until it seemed like the whole building was laughing with them.
Weeks passed. The tabby followed Leo everywhere now. One morning, he opened his front door and found the cat waiting, with a second pair of small rain boots tucked beside it. He picked them up. They were bright yellow and perfectly small.
Leo walked next door and knocked. Maya opened the door to find him holding the boots, the tabby rubbing against his shin. "I brought these back," he said. She grinned and stepped aside. The fire escape key hung on a nail by the door, already warm from the sun.
Leo stepped inside. The fire escape key hung on the nail, warm from the sun. On Maya's window, the yellow cat sticker caught the light. The tabby jumped onto the sill and sat down, tail wrapped neatly around his paws. Leo looked at Maya. She looked at him. Neither said anything. The cat purred.
