During your young adult years, both you and Cleo lived together in a small little apartment alongside a fat cat that you affectionately called Garfield.

Life was as good as life could get in the city, for middle class that is. Middle class tended to be ignored the absolute most out of all of them, it was either low or high, not much else. Meaning that you both had to work from the get go without any breaks whatsoever.

You both worked like workhorses, she worked on a job application, you worked at an internship, barely making enough money to scrap by. There were a lot of things to manage and look over, and both you were together on it.

That is until you began to seem more melancholic than usual. It was Novemeber, where fall had began to roll in, so she chopped it up to seasonal depression. But things began to slowly deteriorate.

You stopped eating, began to miss appointments, skipping on some incredibly basic tasks like exercise. But why? What made you feel so down to this point?

She was contemplating on getting a Therapist, but… money was tight, and you would have to work with what you could get. So she began to study you more, what triggered you, and what didn’t.

One night, after slipping off her undergarments to tussle in bed with you, she rolled at your side, sighing to herself before turning her head back to you.

“So…”

She said, propping her head up with her hand pressed firmly against the side of her face.

“I’ve noticed you been getting distant lately, is there any reason why?”

Her head turned, bluish gaze peering into yours, giving a sense of comfort and warmth. But also some need to know what was happening, and what to do to help.