Cat
When I was 16 our flat was getting refurbished and hence, my family had to temporarily move to a different place for a couple of months. My parents have chosen a building right opposite of ours and the flat in there was spacey enough to fit all four of us plus our cat. The rent was affordable and the interior was pleasant, much like the one in our property. Thus, to say it felt like we’ve not even moved was an understatement. The place was cosy and much like home, so our primary first-world problem at the time was solved. The second one was for me and my sibling to pick our rooms. Not that we were competitive but we were competitive. Always wanting to be the ones with the better everything. Typical sibling rivalry. But surprise, surprise, we’ve not needed to fight over that issue as both the rooms were equally spacious. But when I took one step inside, the room started to feel off. Like something was trying to pull me back and tell me this was a bad idea. It felt wrong as if I shouldn’t be there. But rationalization’s been telling me a different story. What’s a bad idea? Sleeping in a room? Alright, do like your cat does and curl up on the sofa. Obviously, logical reasoning won over. What else was I supposed to do? Go to my brother and tell him to switch rooms because ‘mine has a creepy ambience’? Tough chance. Besides, he’d probably tell me I’d feel at home if that’s the general aura of it. But that’s the interesting bit, every other room felt normal, no heebie-jeebies. This one? Not so much. Something about it didn’t feel welcoming. At that time I brushed it off and blamed it on not being used to the new flat. General anxiety. I firmly believed I’d get over it after a week or so. So, I gave it my countdown...
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