fluff out of context #2
“It’s just for a week,” Casey said, cradling a scrawny, orange creature in her arms like she was holding a human infant (which wasn’t too far off, because the thing had been screaming since she left the shelter).
Alex gave the cat a once-over. It looked like it had recently fought God, lost, and now lived with the consequences. Its fur stuck out at odd angles, it was missing a small chunk of one ear, and it was currently trying to climb into Casey’s jacket.
“She looks like she eats drywall,” Alex said.
“She’s perfect,” Casey cooed, stroking the cat’s crooked whiskers. “Her name’s Pickles.”
“Of course it is,” Alex sighed. “One week.”
Casey’s face lit up. “I love you so much.”
“One. Week,” Alex repeated, pointing.
“Totally.”
“No exceptions.”
“Absolutely.”
“She’s not sleeping in the bed.”