Storms and Strays

I felt like a zombie walking into school Monday morning—three hours of sleep does that to you. The Halloween party had been worth it though.

Maya had been texting me all weekend. "You looked so comfortable with that cat," she'd written. "Like you were in your own world."

The cat had appeared out of nowhere during the party—a sleek black thing that jumped onto the back of the couch and started purring like it owned the place. Everyone else was busy living their best lives, doing TikTok dances in the basement, but I'd ended up petting this random cat and talking to Jake, the senior I'd been crushing on forever.

Then lightning struck—literally. The whole house went dark. Someone screamed. But Jake just pulled out his phone flashlight and said, "Cool." Like, actually chill about it.

We'd sat there in the semi-darkness, the cat curled between us, and talked about everything except how nervous I was. He told me he'd seen me around school but never had the guts to say hi. I told him I thought senior parties would be more... epic? Instead, it was just people being basic.

"That's bull," he'd said. "You're not basic. I like that you're real."

The lights came back on. The party resumed. But something had shifted.

Now Maya's texting me: "Jake's asking for your number. Also, that cat? Apparently it lives two streets over. Its name is Midnight. You should go visit it."

I smile at my phone. Maybe zombies can come back to life after all. Maybe lightning doesn't just strike houses—it strikes moments. And maybe, just maybe, I don't have to be afraid of being myself anymore.

The real me talks to cats and cute seniors and doesn't care if people think that's lame. That's not bull. That's just... living.