He meows as I return home, his bright eyes look down at me from the top of my bookshelf. He leaps off less gracefully than one would expect. I like to think he’s just getting old, but others say he’s overweight.

He brushes against my legs as I kick my shoes off, replying to his meows with ‘hello’ and ‘I missed you too’ and ‘how was your day?’. He flops onto his back roughly, showing off his stomach and the few knots of fur he wouldn’t let me remove.

I dump my bag on the couch and flop onto my bed, waiting for Neville to join me. He does so quickly, jumping up with a small meow and meandering over to sit on my chest. His nose is wet as he headbutts it against my chin. He takes up the length of my torso, his whole body sitting perfectly across mine as he begs for attention.

I pat his soft fur and look into his eyes, wondering what he was thinking about. Why does he sit with me? Where does he think I go during the day? Does he count down the minutes until I come home? He closes his eyes and I close mine in response, etching his face and warmth into my memories, knowing he wouldn’t always be there, waiting for me to come home.