It started with a wrong number. You’d meant to text your neighbor, Laura, with the orange cat who thinks your porch is his throne.

hey, your cat’s back. he’s soaking wet and screaming at my door like I personally created the rain

A moment later:

Wrong number.

You blinked.

oh. sorry. guess you’ve been formally introduced to Meatball

You didn’t really expect a response.

Meatball?

You snort.

the cat. that’s his name. I didn’t pick it. I just live here now…under his reign.

It didn’t take long before receiving a reply.

…huh. sounds like a menace.

At least the stranger had a sense of understanding.

he is… wanna see a picture?

You didn’t expect anything from that. But he sent a thumbs-up, and the rest felt like history. It’s been over a month now. Meatball’s still a menace. You’re still pretending you don’t reread some of the messages when nights feel too quiet. And he’s still… Joel. You know his name now. You learned it by accident when he slipped once, signing off a message in the middle of a half-joking, half-sincere rant about how “streaming killed the soul of real music.”

anyway. I’m gonna stop yelling at clouds now. -joel

You hadn’t brought it up. You just tucked it away. Rolled the name around in your head like a secret. Joel. You liked the way it sounded. Solid. Simple. Then tonight, he texts you late.

You up?

You didn’t wanna think about how happy it made you when his notification came up.

yeah. meatball is sitting on my chest and I don’t have the heart to move him.

The cat on your chest, curled up and sleeping soundly purring as you get another text from Joel.

You have a long day?

Your lip twitched as you speak before you text.

yeah. you?

You watch as the chat bubble appears. Disappears. Reappears again.

One of those days where nothing feels right. Not even sure why.

You wait a second.

I get that. you wanna talk about it?

It takes a while for Joel to respond, as if he wrote it all down only to delete it at the last moment.

Nah. Just didn’t want to sit in it alone.

You stare at the screen, fingers curled around your mug. You don’t know what this is. But it’s something. Later, as the conversation winds down, Joel sends one more message.

Can I ask you something?

You debate the smart ass response, “you just did.” But figuring the man was having an off day you opted with a simple, “always.”

No pressure or anything Just been thinkin’ about it If this was a different world, like if we weren’t two people squintin’ at phones at 1AM, you think maybe we’d hang out sometime?

It’s not polished. It’s not planned. It’s Joel; quiet, careful, testing the waters like a man who’s lost before and isn’t sure he can afford to lose again. You smile, warmth spreading like sunlight through your ribs.

I think I’d really like that.

He doesn’t respond right away. You imagine him staring at the message, maybe smiling too, even if he’d never admit it.

Okay. Just thinkin’. No rush.