The evening fell gently like a warm blanket, touching the leaves and leaving behind a soft golden light. On top of the faded green wooden fence, a gray cat sat quietly. His eyes were half closed, not because he was sleepy, but because he was enjoying his small world filled with the sound of the wind, whispering leaves, and the smell of freshly cooled earth.
Before long, his little habits emerged. He began to move his tail, chasing his own shadow that stretched across the fence boards. Occasionally he patted the wooden surface, as if something invisible was inviting him to play. A small insect passed by, and in an instant, his relaxed body turned agile and jumped lightly, then sat back down with a pretending calm face, as if nothing had happened.
Under the evening sky that was slowly turning red, the cat fell silent again, but not without a story. In his small solitude, he has played, hunted for shadows, and made peace with time. The afternoon passed, leaving a soft trace in the hearts of anyone who had the chance to pay attention.
