Apex [h.s]

chapter four

stream four by one direction

Frankie Doyle

November

I unlocked my door and threw my gear bag messily on the floor as I walked in. After the ridiculously dramatic weekend I had just had, I couldn't be arsed making an effort to keep my apartment clean. I just wanted flop down and never move again. I leant over the arm of my couch, falling back, letting the soft layer of cushions encompass me. I finally felt at peace, that was until I heard a rather disapproving meow come from below me.

Ziggy Stardust, Zig for short, my four year old cat was patiently waiting at the foot of the couch to be acknowledged.

Attention whore.

"Hi bubs," I say, propping myself up on my elbows.

Zig was a decently big cat, so when he decided to jump on to my stomach, he landed with enough force to knock the wind out of me.

"Bloody hell, give me a warning next time," I breathe out, the reach up to scratch behind his ears. He responded with a seemingly passive aggressive purr, to which I rolled my eyes.

Some would call my relationship with my cat strange. I talk to him, ask his opinions on outfits or as how his day was. I guess that's what happens when you live alone, you need something to fill the silence. He always responded to me though. I liked to think he could understand me to a degree and I could understand him.

When people see my relationship with Zig, they automatically assume I'm some crazy cat lady, which I guess is true to some extent, as long as it's concerning my cat. Otherwise, I'm not really bothered. Growing up, I was always a dog person and intended to get one when I moved out of the family home, but I quickly realised that I couldn't bring a dog to the race track, which is where I spent the majority of my time. I needed something to help me fill the space of my little apartment, so I adopted Ziggy. I admire the independence that cats have, they way they live perfectly content lives. Until they get hungry that is, then they become the most needy buggers on the planet.

"What do you think bubs, should mum steal Sixty-Sevens race data?" Zig meowed in seeming disapproval.

"But don't you want Uncle Benji to win?" He meowed again, I think I was starting to convince him.

"That's what I thought," I smiled, scratching the base of his tail. He slowly crawled up to my chest, then placed his paw gently on my mouth. "Is this your way of telling me to shut up?" I laughed, checking the time on my watch, 6:45pm. "Oh, you're hungry. Well, come on let's get some dinner."

As soon as Zig heard the word dinner, he pounced off me, leaving me winded again, "I think we need to put you on a diet." As soon as I said that, Zig stopped dead in his tracks and stared at me. I don't think I've ever seen him look so betrayed.

"Or not, bloody hell Zig, your a cat, you aren't allowed to understand what I say," And with that, he turned, walking to his food bowl, tail high in the air. "I swear you give me more attitude than Brooklyn."

As Ziggy ate his dinner, I pulled out some leftovers, blasting them in the microwave. I was too tired to even think about cooking, but my stomach had started to growl. I sat at the kitchen bench as I ate, staring out the window at the people below me. That was something I really loved about where I lived. There were always people out and about, with lists of things to do and people to see. There was something so calming about watching busy people from the comfort of your own home, making up stories for each one as they pass. I've found that living alone, I do this quite often without even realising it. 

I've always loved living alone. Growing up, I always needed my own space. Being around people constantly exhausted me to the point where I would need to lock myself in my room for days to recharge my social battery. My home is my safe haven. Just like a sunflower needs watering to grow and flourish, I need my time alone at home to do the same.