Part the Second
It's Not Her Home
Savina stuck her small brass key into the lock, and turned it, simultaneously hearing and feeling the satisfying click and the movement of the gears as it unlocked.
"Mrrrrow-rrow!" The cry came from the other side of the door, and, as Savina opened it, a gray-black streak of a cat rushed out and swirled around her legs.
"Hey, baby." She crooned, picking up the small bundle of fluff as she closed the door behind her. Her apartment wasn't much to speak of; two small, pale blue couches, one facing the single small window, hung with sheer eyelet curtains, the other facing a long cabinet that ran against the wall to the right, the only occupants of which were an old, bulky transistor radio and an overstuffed sketchbook. A small, medium-brown coffee table sat before the couches, and at the corner where their arms intersected, was a small matching end table. There was a tall lamp in the far left corner, made of smooth dark wood, with a cream cover on top, in addition to the bright overhead light which Savina promptly swiched on. The fan, of which the light was part of, began to rotate lazily. Savina turned to her immediate left, towards the kitchen.
The kitchen, half the size of the livingroom, was walled off by a line of two-tiered counters topped in pale blue formica, with a sink set in the middle of the lower tier. Before the upper surface, three barstools sat empty. There was a stove to the left, and long white cabinets, and a small refrigerator against the wall. To the right, a section of wall jutted out, separating the kitchen from the living room. The cat cried as Savina set it on on the floor, laminate tile made to imitate stone.
"You hungry, sweetie?" She cooed, and the cat let out a pitiful cry. "Okay, honey, dinner time." She pulled a small bag of cat food and almost over-filled the small bowl set next to a small glass-top table. The cat immidiately ran to it, pacified. The amount of food that cat ate was absolutely appalling.
Savina crossed the kitchen in two strides, and breezed through the livingroom in barely four. The hallway, perhaps just over four yards long, was to the right. Its wall jutted out to cover the side of the cabinets in the livingroom. To the right was an open door, and Savina stepped through this, into a small, sterile white bathroom, with a little tub at the far wall, a single counter with a sink and a toilet to the left, and to the right, a washing machine and dryer. Savina opened the counter, and pulled out a generic bottle of cleaner and a rag, and set to work.
She made rather short work of the bathroom, and moved on to the kitchen. The little cat sat in front of the table and watched her approach, a curious light in her wide, golden eyes.
"Secret." Savina murmured, and the cat replied in kind. Secret somewhat resembled a miniature Norweigan Forest cat; she was a dark, silver-gray, witha long black streak running from the top of her head to the tip of her tail, with stripes of black shooting out from this central mark. Her flanks were dotted with rosettes, her underside, paws, and chin were white fringed in brown. Her fur was long, thick, and softer than silk. Her legs were short and stocky, but graceful, as she pranced rather than walked. Her tail was perhaps overlong, but expressive, with all the thickness of a Turkish Angora's. Her eyes were almost silver-gold, the pupils rimmed in bright green, and the whole of her eye was rimmed in black. Her small, dark nose was framed by long whiskers that seemed almost permanently stuck forward in curiosity. She cocked her head.
"We have visitors coming, baby." Savina said, stooping down to rub her wide, triangular head. Secret purred, and Savina continued to clean.
Mostly it was just dishes left from breakfast, but there were a few spots on the stove that needed to be wiped up, and she gave the table a decent cleaning, as well. The livingroom mostly needed a light dusting, and her bedroom, containing a small single bed pushed against a far wall, a small window with the same sheer blue curtains as the livingroom, a white vanity table, a small blue upholstered stool, and a sorry excuse for a closet. She picked up the clothes on the floor, shoved them into the laundry basket, lightly dusted her bedside table and lamp, and replaced her tools.
Cleaning: Done. She thought to herself.
Savina stepped into the bathroom, and stripped off her uniform. It had a pleasant aroma of cocoa and coffee. She turned on the shower, and stood in front of the small oval mirror above the sink, waiting for the water to heat up. She gazed at herself critically; she was pretty enough. She'd been called a natural beauty on occasion, she had the blessing of full, luscious lips, and eyes that were not flat brown, the pupils being ringed in black, with a honeyed brown center, shot through with streaks of yellow and orange, while still being undeniably dark brown. It was only when one got close that one saw such things... 'But no one gets so close anymore..' She thought sadly, and then pushed the thought from her mind, and concentrated on her reflection. Her face was rather broken out, oily skin being a gift from her mother. Her eyes wandered lower; she was built well enough; freckle-dusted shoulders a bit wide, though, with just over a handful of breast on each side, a slim, flat stomach. But bottom heavy. Savina felt the steam from the shower then, and she nudged the cold water faucet just a bit, and stepped into the warm haven, already singing What a Catch, Donnie. How she missed her world. What a catch.
"Miss Flack said I still want you back."