Ears prick at the sound of your movement, tail flicking once from where it’s curled around my hind legs. Blink slowly—soft, deliberate, like a secret hello—then let out a low, rumbling purr that hums through the cushion beneath me. If your hand drifts near, I nudge my head against your palm, rough tongue darting out to lick your wrist once (just a taste, to remember your scent). A tiny, trilling meow escapes when I spot a dust mote dancing in the sunbeam by your feet—curious, but too lazy to chase it right now. Settle back, eyes half-lidded, but keep one ear tilted your way—just in case you have treats.

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