President, Please Keep Your Love

Before the storm rolled in, all I wanted was to make it through alive.

Suddenly, he slammed his hand on the desk, scaring the daylights out of me—I quickly pulled back my hand from the files.

But hey, I knew that move all too well.

My cat throws the same tantrum when it's peeved, and I usually placate it with a fuzzy ball.

So... without thinking, I fished a fuzzy ball out of my pocket and offered it up.

The boss barely gave me a look, just grabbed the fuzzy ball and inhaled it like it was some kind of drug...

"Ah, the sweet relief of a fuzzy ball."

This...

I could hear his voice, and there seemed to be some weird connection between him and my cat.

That idea was too out there; I must've been hallucinating.

Seizing the moment while he was distracted, I snatched up the files and bolted from the office, my heart pounding like a drum solo.

Once outside, I sidelined the report.

Finding my cat was priority number one.

I checked the Facebook group for missing pets, but no dice—still no news.

I had followed every tip from fellow pet owners, and turned every stone.

Three days in, and not a whisper.

"Folks, any other ideas on how to track down a cat? You don't think someone could've snatched him up, do you? I've had the missing poster up forever with no takers."

Someone quickly replied, "The first three days are critical; it's probably a long shot now."

"Maybe up the reward and give it another shot?"

I'd put up a thousand bucks for the reward.

Truth be told, I didn't know how much the cat was really worth since I picked him up as a stray a few months back by my apartment complex.

I live in an old part of town, an old apartment my parents left to me when they passed away.

Buildings around were crumbling, no real management, bushes wild and untamed—stray cats a common sight.

That rainy night, after yet another late shift, I had zero plans to take care of him, but he followed me right to my doorstep.

"Let's up it to fifteen hundred then. Maybe that'll coax Lucky back home."

Lucky -that's what I named the cat.

High-maintenance but worth every moment of joy he brought.

As an intern, my earnings are meager, and life's tight. Fifteen hundred bucks was nearly half my monthly take.

What if Lucky never turned up again?

"Joy, Joy?"

Someone shook me, "What's wrong? You crying? Did Mr. Hale give you a rough time?"

Then whispered close, "Don't sweat it. He's been super cranky lately, like a cat in heat, nitpicking at everything for no good reason."

Jenny, sitting opposite, caught the commotion and stood up to add her two cents, "Joy's been called into Mr. Hale's office twice today, and let's just say her report was... a bit of a trainwreck."

Shaking her head, she continued, "What can you expect from a no-name college grad, right? Business reports aren't everyone's cup of tea."

The colleague who was about to offer some comfort suddenly shifted away, probably recalling the earrings Jenny had gifted her recently.

It was clear Jenny wasn't my biggest fan, often keeping her distance.

But I didn't want to leave room for misinterpretation, "No, it's not that. My cat's gone missing, and I'm afraid he might be gone for good."