Or maybe it was the cat that had just jumped on her chest to take a nap. Charlie exhaled in a frustrated laugh, and raised her elbow to bare one eye to the orange tabby. "What do you think, Popeye? Risk everything on a relationship that will probably not work? Or keep my mouth shut and stay his friend?"
The cat blinked slowly at her before tucking his paws beneath him and shutting his eyes. Charlie smiled and returned her arm to its former position. "I guess it doesn't matter what I do, does it? It'll be screwed up no matter what. If he actually wants to stay friends, I guess my heart would break a little. But if he wants... something more... then it'd be his heart I would break, one way or another, which would turn around and break my heart..."
The tears started again, and after a few moments of her chest heaving with her sobs, Popeye decided to give up his warm spot for a place with less disturbance. He glanced at the bookshelf next to the door- it was nice and high, and as long as he didn't completely fall asleep, he wouldn't run the risk of falling off like he did a few weeks ago. Popeye trotted toward the shelf and crouched, ready to spring-
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
Popeye looked at the door with an expression of supreme disdain. Would everything interrupt him today?
Charlie stared at the door, startled and half-afraid she imagined it. But when a second round of knocks was heard, she lept to her feet, dragged her sleeves over her face, and walked toward the door, prepared to claim some ridiculous explanation for her splotchy, post-crying face. But when she opened the door, expecting to see Royce, she found herself without a need for an explanation.