I’m standing in the kitchen trying to make breakfast while Pandora gets ready for work. I’m not really paying attention to what I’m doing. I’m just going through the motions. Mr. Whiskers is weaving around my feet and meowing loudly, demanding food or attention—probably both. John Mercer wandered into the kitchen a few minutes ago and started making himself a cup of coffee, but he hasn’t said much. That’s not really unusual. We’re not always chatty in the mornings.
Still, now that I think about it, Karen acted kind of awkward around me at work yesterday. Not bad awkward—more like the kind where someone wants to say something but decides not to. At the time I figured she was just busy, but now my brain is connecting dots again. Then Mrs. Jenkins called yesterday and mentioned John had been acting “different” lately. That doesn’t automatically mean anything, but now it’s stuck in my head.
I’m trying to focus on cracking eggs into a bowl, but Mr. Whiskers’ nonstop meowing isn’t helping. I swear that cat has a sixth sense for when I’m distracted. John is standing there sipping coffee and staring out the window like he’s solving some giant mystery, and Mrs. Jenkins saying John had been acting “different” keeps replaying in my head. Maybe Karen noticed something too. Or maybe I’m connecting dots that don’t exist.
Unless…
What if John has been acting differently toward me too?
No. That’s ridiculous. I’m probably being paranoid. Mrs. Jenkins loves neighborhood gossip. She could tell me the sky looked suspicious and somehow make me question weather itself. But then I remember she sounded genuinely concerned. That part felt different. And now I’m thinking about Pandora. Not in a bad way. Just lately she’s seemed a little distracted too. Not distant exactly—just preoccupied.
Now I’m wondering if I’m seeing patterns where there aren’t any.
No, wait.
John has been spending a lot more time in his room lately, and he’s been blasting music. Loud. Way louder than usual. John normally likes his music, but not “trying to communicate with neighboring zip codes” loud. I’m trying to remember when that started when Mr. Whiskers suddenly stops meowing.
I look down and he’s staring toward the hallway.
Just staring.
Cats do weird stuff all the time, but this somehow feels oddly dramatic. Mrs. Jenkins also mentioned she saw him sitting outside John’s door a few times, just sitting there and watching. Now I’m wondering if Mr. Whiskers knows something—which I realize sounds insane—but I’ve seen cats do weird things. They stare at corners, sprint through houses at three in the morning, and randomly decide your chest is furniture. Who’s to say they aren’t gathering intelligence?
Then I remember something else. Mrs. Jenkins mentioned seeing John throw out his old computer recently. At the time I thought, Okay… people replace computers. Now my brain is turning it into evidence. Evidence of what? No idea. But suddenly it feels suspicious.
And now my thoughts are spiraling.
What if John is hiding something? What if Pandora knows something? What if Karen noticed something at work but didn’t want to say anything? What if Mr. Whiskers has been trying to warn me this entire time? What if Mrs. Jenkins somehow knows everything?
I glance over at John. He slowly sips his coffee. Then he looks at me. Then at Mr. Whiskers. Then back at me.
Finally he says, “Hal… you’ve been holding that egg over the bowl for like two minutes.”
I look down.
He’s right.
I completely forgot what I was doing.
Mr. Whiskers meows. John sighs. Pandora walks into the kitchen, looks at all three of us, and says, “Why does everyone in this house look guilty?”
And honestly, that’s when I started wondering if maybe I’m the weird one.