The sun spilled onto the blue-white walls and tapering stairs, from over the mighty rooftops. The dull bass of old music on the radio made its way out through shut windows. Life thrived in an underlying fashion, a word here and there, finding balance amongst the sounds of seagulls and crashing waves.
Mario made his way up the stairs, his speckled black tail swishing lazily behind him. His ears were perked and his nose in the air, as he followed the usual fragrance of frying fish, which led him to a window nestled between two brightly colored flower pots. Sounds of clanking metal ware and sizzling food could be heard from beyond the windowsill.
After surveying his surroundings, the young tuxedo fell back onto his hind legs, his tail curling around his pristine white socks, and gave a low purr. When his cry was given no notice, Mario circled under the window before tensing his back legs and jumping onto the sill. From his new perch, he once again said his greetings, this time a little more demanding than before. And just like that, with a pat on the head and a scratch behind his ears, he was presented with food; scraps of fish that played a valuable role in satiating his stomach.
Scarfing down his meal, he laid down on the sill, as the clouds parted and rays of gold fell onto his lithe figure. And there, to the sounds of cooking and radio static, he fell asleep, until the dull ache of hunger came back to wake him up again.
After cleaning up her kitchen, Viri got dressed in a summer dress. Grabbing her keys and bag, she stepped out of her house, onto the blue-white stairway outside. She hurried past her kitchen window, with a fleeting glance at the tuxedo lounging on her windowsill. There he lay, in the speckled rays of light, surrounded by white daisy petals. His visits replaced her daily blues with anticipation, and she hoped that he would stay to welcome her when she returned.