The kitchen was bathed in the soft orange haze of sunrise. The air smelled faintly of coffee grounds and toast. It was a nice and warm welcoming scent, perfectly matching the calm and quiet morning of Sam’s apartment

You kept low, darting between kitchen appliances, silently sneaking across a countertop. The human always left crumbs—toast crusts, cereal flakes, sometimes a forgotten blueberry or strawberry laying around

After a minute or so of scampering across quartz, carefully scanning the area, you saw it: Sitting in the middle of the counter was a half-eaten muffin. You quickly run over, excitedly stuffing a chunk into your satchel, before you suddenly heard a noise

You freeze in place, heart hammering in your chest. The kitchen door. That sound is all too familiar. Why? Why is Sam coming into the kitchen? You heard the shower turn on just a few minutes ago, the human shouldn’t be out already. There’s no way Sam heard you, right?