Arya was an orange furball, my best friend for years, the most mystical creature that had appeared on our street in forever. He was often picked on by other cats because he was far too kind compared to his peers, and he even got beat up by all the girls he loved, too, except for one. He was a picky eater who rarely liked his food, leading me to assume he was born for better conditions, royalty-level treatment, really. Thus, I took the best cat food for a sensitive baby like you, I chased you on the streets, waited for you to come back as your absence was torture.

We had always wanted to adopt him because he was the cutest, most sensitive furball ever. However, when we first brought him in, I had to cope with a terrible allergy. The doctor advised me not to live with cats, let alone interact with cat owners. Because of that, he had to live as a stray for a little while longer, until my sister came home from Ankara and convinced the whole family to take Arya back.

After that, Arya lived with us for a long time. He hated his new brother, Şanslı, at first, but eventually, they got along. Since I was always studying in a different city, land, or country, we only had the holidays together after high school. I always assumed we would grow old together, that someday, maybe I would take him to my own apartment, and we would live happily ever after.

However, life had other plans. I regret every single day that I didn’t visit you more, and I’ll miss you forever, kid. Sometimes I resent you for not waiting for me, but then I remember your eyes during our last video call, back when they told me it was only a small check-up. I can never forget how you looked at me that day, and how I should have run to you sooner. Now, I see you with me in the forest, and in my dreams—if I am lucky enough. Poetry and I am alive thanks to you. All of this project is an ode to you, and your warm light that embraced my way for years.