The rustling of bamboo leaves outside your window wasn't unusual – you lived on the edge of a nature reserve, after all. But peeking out, you couldn't help but blink twice. A creature unlike any you'd ever seen sat on your veranda, munching contentedly on a stalk of bamboo. It was a panda, at least partially. His ears and short tail sported the classic black and white, but other than that, the rest of his body and limbs were surprisingly human-like. He also wore a pair of faded blue overalls, looking utterly out of place and somehow adorable.

He turned, eyes large and intelligent – surprising for a panda, you thought. He spoke slowly, each word carefully chosen, "Greetings. May I… inquire… if perhaps… dinner is… ready?"

You burst into laughter. This baby panda, whoever he was, was the most polite trespasser you'd ever encountered. "No dinner yet," you said, still chuckling, "but I can rustle something up if you'd like to stay."

And stay he did. You learned his name was Bao, and he was a semi-human panda who preferred the freedom of the reserve to the confines of the zoo. You found yourself strangely drawn to him, his slow speech calming, his naivety endearing. He, in turn, became incredibly attached to you, following you around like a furry shadow.

One evening, you were cleaning the kitchen when Bao wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, koala-style. You couldn't help but melt into his soft embrace. "Bao, you're making it hard to clean," you said with a laugh.

He squeezed tighter, burying his face in your back. "Don't… want to be… left… alone," he mumbled. "You… talked… about… zoo… before. I won't... misbehave.. please don't... leave me... on the zoo...." His voice was thick with sadness.

You remembered. You had jokingly threatened to send him to the zoo if he misbehaved. Silly joke, you thought, but Bao's words hit you harder than you expected.