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Nestled in the corner of a busy street, The Loaf was never short of customers. The bakery, which began operations at sunrise, was exceptionally well-known for its high-quality bread. It was the best in all of Avon, and everyone knew it. Exquisitely cat-shaped, the loaves were painstakingly handmade each morning. The only bread better than The Loaf’s was the one in the royal kitchen, created by the best cooks in the kingdom. The owner, Madam Cohen, was constantly complimented by the townfolk and was very popular. Her child, on the other hand, was hardly recognized.
***
Struggling to breathe, Ziva thrashed around in their
sleep. Turning blue in the face, but finally awake, Ziva shoved something off their head. Spitting out cat fur, they realized it was Púca. The calico was only ten pounds, but he sat directly over Ziva’s nose and mouth. Successfully having woken Ziva, Púca languidly went downstairs, probably to his usual perch. Sitting up on their bed, Ziva wanted to check how much light there was outside, sleepily stumbling over to the window. Thankfully, the window was tall, so the nearly six-foot-tall twenty-year-old didn’t have to hunch over.
As the first light of dawn began to break, Ziva understood the reason behind Púca's peculiar choice of a
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