What about me?

In the evening with the kitchen lights shining on the warm reddish tones of the floor and the caramel tabletop, Chestnut blends in almost perfectly. He has that colouring that almost reflects his surroundings, becoming more or less orange depending on the lighting or object he stands next to.

He orbits the table, circling and circling, to nonchalantly get my attention. At least I imagine he thinks of himself as nonchalant, subtle, a mere suggestion on the periphery. But I follow him with my eyes and when he looks at me, sees me looking at him, he stops, his eyes full of surprise, “oh, you noticed me, little ol’ me just standing here.”

And then he gets a look of panic. “I’m starving you know.”