That first night, it slept curled in the nook of her elbow, trembling less and less as the hours passed. Lisa named her Nina, though she wasn’t sure why but it just felt right. Soft. Slightly old-fashioned. In the weeks that followed, Lisa found herself rearranging her life for the kitten.
She set up a perch on the windowsill, padded with an old scarf. Cleared out a bottom kitchen drawer and filled it with toys she bought on a whim. She even gave up her desk chair, because Nina had claimed it. The kitten was small, but she had a quiet way of expanding her presence.