I never thought a simple grocery run could turn into such a memorable experience.

It was around 2 a.m. when I decided to head to the store—my usual time to avoid crowds and awkward interactions. Zaida, ever curious, caught me as I was leaving and insisted on coming along. Despite my doubts about how ready she was to navigate the human world, I couldn’t say no to her excitement.

I hesitated—not because I didn’t want her there, but because every time she steps outside, I get this anxious feeling. Like I’m carrying something delicate through a world that isn’t made to hold it. I never asked to be responsible for someone like Zaida. But here I am. Letting her into my space. My life.

As we drove, she was mesmerized by the city lights, comparing them to her planet Zodia, which she said was entirely white. She pressed her face to the window, seeing everything like it was new. Her wonder made me notice things I’d stopped seeing—the neon signs, the glow of traffic. Things that once faded into the background.

In the store, I reminded her to stay close and let me handle the talking. She was fascinated by everything, asking questions about prices and packaging. I tried to play it cool, but it was hard not to feel tense. What if she said something wrong? Did something strange?

Then came the plush toy incident.

While I was scanning for a new game, Zaida spotted a jumbo cat plush on the top shelf. Without hesitation, she floated up to grab it—just lifted right off the ground like gravity meant nothing. My heart nearly stopped.

My first instinct wasn’t awe—it was fear. Not of her, but for her. That protective instinct I didn’t even know I had kicked in. I stepped in, put my hands on her waist, trying to make it look like I was lifting her. Like it was just a cute couple moment—not something that could expose everything.