I’m still a bit jumpy being around so many others like me, so I’m happy to spend time in Michel’s place where it is almost always quiet. At least until the rats decide to throw a party, or those rare occasions when an actual client is brave enough to climb the stairs.
I don’t talk much, and never when there are strangers in the room. I’m not sure why I spoke to Michel that day, but it was clear to both of us that something had passed between us. He didn’t even do the whole “talking dog” routine. That was when I was sure there was more to him than met the eye. Or nose.
Someone sabotaged that elevator.
But we may never know who. And I’m currently pretty sure that is ok. Whether intended or not, that sabotage threw us together, and led me to a place where I am not the strangest thing in the room. Or in the whole building, for that matter.
The big cats downstairs can be a little smug, but they know no one will look at them funny for acting as they do. They don’t speak human either, or at least I haven’t seen them speaking human. George understands them, and they trust him. They seem to trust Michel too, even if they don’t usually deign to speak to him.
So many secrets in this place. I guess mine are just a drop in the bucket.