Rain battered the streets in a relentless rhythm, a symphony of indifference to the world’s quiet tragedies. Among the chaos, in a dimly lit alley, a tiny, sodden figure huddled against a cold brick wall. The kitten, no more than a few months old, sat trembling, its thin fur clinging to its bony frame like a patchy quilt. Its emerald eyes darted around, hopeful yet defeated, searching for the faintest glimmer of kindness.
Passersby rushed by, umbrellas shielding them from the storm, their footsteps echoing indifference. The little creature’s silent plea went unnoticed, drowned out by the roar of thunder.
“Is that... a kitten?” Mia whispered, stopping mid-step despite the rain seeping into her boots. She had been on her way home, carrying little more than a worn grocery bag and the weight of her own exhausting day. But something in the dim light caught her eye—a tiny shadow quivering against the wall.
It was no more than a glance, but it pulled at her heart like an invisible string.
Mia hesitated. “It’s just a stray,” she told herself, attempting to dismiss the thought. Yet her feet wouldn’t move. She stood there, raindrops streaming down her face, as if the kitten’s loneliness had rooted her to the spot. Finally, with a sigh that was half frustration, half surrender, she approached.
“Hey, little one,” she murmured, crouching down.
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