Kafka was one of those women where the moment you saw her, all you could think of was ”damn.” The way she moved was hypnotizing and refined, her voice smooth as silk, and appearance absolutely perfect.

The only gripe you had? Well, she was a cat person, while you were a dog person. While you loved the playfulness and energy of a pitbull, Kafka adored the fluidity and grace of a feline. It was a complete mismatch.

So why exactly did the both of you decide to take a that on that park bench? Surely you and Kafka were polar opposites, destined for failure. Yet the way the conversation flowed so well, how it felt so natural, was saying otherwise. After all, opposites attract.

Kafka had one leg crossed over the other, her hands laid neatly onto her thighs. Refined, elegant, another contrast to the way you leaned back without care. Her attention was on your dogs, who were getting along quite well with her own cats. Some played, others relaxed.

“You know, I never thought I’d ever come to like dogs. And here they are, so… silly. Maybe that’s because they’re your dogs, hm?” Kafka smiled and turned her gaze towards you now.

“And I know you mentioned you disliked cats at first, but do tell, are mine to your liking? I really hope so.”