The Red Cat from Nitra (short story)

 


I love small towns with traffic-free streets, full of tiny family-owned shops where you can buy all sorts of things that, once home, you realize you didn't need. But when you do buy them, it's a boundless joy for you and especially for the sellers. Whether it's a wrinkled old woman with a serene and clear gaze or maybe a young lady in the first buds of love. Each time, the conversation unfolds effortlessly, and words fly out of your mouth like albatrosses towards the open sea.

I discovered the red cat in the evening. The sun was resting against the roof of a traditional house in the old town and was giving more and more signs that it wanted to go to sleep. In that semi-reddish light, enveloped in irises of yellow sparkle, she sat on a chair, seemingly indifferent to everything happening around her. The red coat, unusual for a feline, glowed magically. For a moment, I thought I had cracked open the door to paradise, and God had allowed me a glimpse inside.

The shop had nothing special. It was just like all the others I had seen in my wanderings. Inside, a kind lady served the few visitors. I entered to inquire about the cat.

- Is the cat outside yours?
- No. She came a few days ago and settled on that chair by the entrance.
- Cats know where they feel good.
- Maybe so. Since she arrived, my sales have skyrocketed.
- Do you know why her fur is red?
- Probably inhaled some chemicals somewhere. I've never seen one like her.

Outside, the red cat licked her paws tactfully. The chair she sat on was old, probably coated with lacquer many years ago. It was a chair that isn't made today, with a curved backrest and sturdy legs. I smiled and left.

After a few days, before returning home, I wanted to see that cat again, the one that seemed to take away your troubles and give you joy with her simple way of being. She had a special power just by sitting there alone and doing nothing.

In front of the shop, the chair was the same, but the cat was not. The real one, with the red balance, was no longer there. In her place, on the backrest, there was a red plush cat. Her large yellow eyes, curled tail, gave her an almost real air.

- Where is the red cat?
- She left. But in her place, I put another cat to remind me of her. It may seem like an imitation, but I feel her there, as if she's looking at me, as if she's alive.
- And the sales?
- Going very well. I think she was an angel who showed me the way.

The red cat on the chair shone in the sunlight like a call.


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