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Yes! Another sister sub! Welcome to r/lifeofMissChan, an equally unimportant woman who loves cats, sewing, and painting.

Go to r/lifeofMissChan for everything else, but enjoy!

-Miss Chan

Norman, the fluffy and boisterous and certainly cheerful tabby cat happily scampered to his food. Luckily, he was met with the presence of his favorite neighbor, Miss Chan. Miss Chan was a single young lady who loved to sew. Occasionally, she branches out to make cat toys for Norman.

Norman was shocked, expecting to go somewhere. He stretched out his paws, slightly more conscious to close his mouth shut and not let his claws out.

"Hello, Norman." Said Miss Chan, who was patting him on his small little head, and scratching the itch that Norman was pestering about all morning. "Norman, your owner, told me to take care of you today.. is that okay?"

Norman favored the way Miss Chan spoke to him like an human being. He purred, and from his days in the pet store where he observed dogs wagging their tails and their owners being happy, he wagged his tail cheerfully and shown Miss Chan his belly; that was a sign of trust, especially with a cat like Norman who doesn't do it often, and it's like a badge to a cool club if he ever does it to you.

"Great! I have a toy for you today, I'm sorry it's not the best, but I tried." Miss Chan said as she looked through her leather purse and pulled out a blue feather.

Norman jumped up and down, chasing after it; it had an laser built into it. Norman had a VERY good day!

It was a particularly average Tuesday morning for Norman, that is, until it wasn’t. Norman woke up 3 minutes before his alarm sounded, as usual. He ate his same old toast with jam and piping hot, black coffee next to Norman, as he had his daily wet food. He brushed his teeth, got dressed, grabbed his packed lunch from the fridge, and headed out of the house by 8:15 all as usual.

Norman was on his normal trajectory for the day until the car wouldn’t start. Norman thought for a moment about taking it in to the local mechanic but then recalled it didn’t open shop until 10am.

Norman didn’t worry since he had a bicycle in the shed. He was retrieving his rusty steed when he realized both tires were flat. He rummaged past the toolbox and other various cobwebbed items in the shed before he remembered his son had taken the bike pump with him the last time he’d visited.

Norman paused for a moment, thinking, ‘this is not my average day,’ before walking toward the bus stop. He boarded, paid his fare, landed in his seat, and sighed. The bus pulled off and bumped along. Bump. Bump. Bump. Snooze.

There was suddenly a bigger bump than the rest and Norman awoke with a start. He leaned his face into the window, checked his watch and came to the realization he was several stops past work.

Resigned, Norman disembarked at the next stop. The bus stop he’d arrived at resided next to a little park lined with benches. Norman trudged to a bench, called in sick to work, and began to eat his packed lunch.

The sun was back out, at least for a few days, and Norman left his jacket at home, confident that he wouldn't need it.

He followed his usual route to the office, avoiding the mushy step on the train platform and staying clear of the blind spot on the cycle path. In front of him a teenager in exceptionally baggy trousers sucked on a pink plastic tube for a moment, then blew out a cloud of sugary vapour that completely encased Norman's head.

Yuck, thought Norman. That smells like perfume that comes free with Barbie. Surely it tastes worse?

He tried to hold his breath until he was free of the teenager's cloud, though naturally the young person walked quickly in front of him until the pavement narrowed to shoulder-width between a concrete wall and a handrail before slowing right down and taking another pull from their vape.

Hork! thought Norman, briefly turning green and starting to cough. Courtesy be damned, he squeezed past the young person, marching purposefully, his eyes watering, even as he heard an insulted "Uh!" from somewhere inside the cloud. He kept coughing, waving his hands ineffectually in front of his face in a way that could be interpreted as "I'm simply having a coughing fit for no reason, terribly sorry" if one was truly clueless. He kept coughing and marching, even as he carefully checked both ways and crossed the street.

After a few more minutes Norman was inside his building, the tutti-frutti smell mostly gone from his clothing and nostrils. He touched his ID tag to the reader, entered the office, and made his way to his desk.

After a few minutes of emails Lisa walked past, waving her empty 'Dog Mum' mug at him and waggling her eyebrows. Norman snatched his matching 'Cat Dad' mug and made to join her on the trip to the kettle, but stopped short when he heard and felt his shoe un-stick from the floor. He sat back down to have a look.

"Oh come on kids! Surely chewing gum is obsolete?"

It had been rainy and dreary all week, so Norman was pleased to wake up to a sunny and mild Saturday. While tidying up after breakfast, Norman decided a nice walk would do him some good, so after he finished cleaning, he set out for a stroll with no particular destination in mind.

After walking for a bit, Norman realized that he was headed in the direction of the local high street, so he continued on and decided to do a bit of window shopping. Norman eventually popped into the bookstore, where he browsed a little before purchasing two mystery paperbacks from the discount bin.

After getting home, Norman fixed a nice cup of tea. He then spent the rest of the afternoon sitting in his garden and reading, while Norman napped in a nearby sunbeam, waking briefly to chase a fly that had buzzed a little too close.

After dinner, Norman and Norman retired to the living room to watch CSI, where they both fell asleep on the couch. Norman woke up the next morning well-rested, but with a bit of a stiff neck.

One early Tuesday morning, Norman was walking down the road to his job. 8:30 AM, just like usual. An unusual amount of ruckus was coming from the street to the left. When he looked, he saw a plethora of cameras, actors, and microphones.

Norman simply shrugged and continued walking to work. He took a sip of his coffee.

Around a year later, Norman had just gotten home from work. He decided he would watch a movie, a newer release. He was sort of paying attention, mostly petting his cat and eating his dinner, but then he glanced up at the screen. He saw himself glaring at the camera from a far off distance, before drinking his coffee and walking off the set.

Norman decided that was enough surprises for the rest of his day and turned off the television before brushing his teeth and going to bed.

He liked it

He realized it wasn't a bird, just a beanie baby

Norman touched out, stomping up the old familiar stairs to street level, and shielded his glasses with the back of his hand against the rain. The podcasters in his ears chuckled about how weird Bonanza was back in its day, a show he'd only seen in reruns and never really got into.

"Good morning, Trevor" he popped a wave at the street food seller who was setting up his tent.

"Oh, Norman! Hi!" Trev waved back.

He made his way into the cool dry of the building and stomped on the doormat for a moment. "Morning, Susie." he tipped his head toward the receptionist.

"Oh! Norman?" Susie replied, looking pleasantly surprised.

A young man Norman didn't know held the inner door for him and, smiling gratefully, he swept through the lobby and up the staircase. He entered the main office and turned down the aisle towards his cubicle, breezing past Karen at her desk.

"Norman. Stop." He could feel her red-rimmed glasses burning a hole in the back of his head. Norman took a step back and slowly turned around, eyebrows raised.

"Good morning Karen, sorry, I was off in my own--" Norman began.

"Everything okay?" Karen asked, brows raised.

"I think so--why?" Norman replied.

"Well, I don't want to startle you, but, well, you don't work here any more." Karen said, politely but firmly.

"Wuh--" Norman stopped short. "Oh."

"Oh, right." He looked towards his cubicle and watched the young man he didn't know slide into his chair, a hyacinth in the spot where his cactus used to be, an unfamiliar woman smiling back from the cork-board where Norman had kept a photo of his son.

"Auto-pilot?" Karen smiled. "Or are you desperate for your old job back? They treating you okay down there?"

"They're lovely, I don't know what came over me. It's much closer to my house--I have a long trip back." He smiled confusedly. "How did I make it all the way..." he trailed off.

With a quick hug Karen sent him back down the stairs. He sheepishly waved at Susie, who shook her head. He heard her saying into the phone, "You're a mind reader, Lisa. We're sending him back to you now."

Back out into the drizzle, past Trev, who handed him some fried plantains in a waxed paper bag. "Provisions for your journey back across the river!" he laughed and clapped Norman on the back.

Norman made his way back down the stairs and touched in. The train was nearly empty going this direction at this time of day. He got a seat and put his headphones back on. Before he rejoined his podcasters in their chat about reruns, though, he pulled a Biro out of his satchel and jotted a note on his hand.

"IT IS STILL MORNING, GO TO WORK"

He will have to fix it, but doesn't have the parts

It was itching him tremendously.

He was making himself a sandwich

The cat ate the food

He’s feeling a little congested

Norman could feel someone--or something--staring at him.

He glanced around his desk and didn't see anything. He shrugged and returned to his Sainsbury's pre-shop. Norman didn't shop for food online, but he liked to check the stock at his local supermarket before he set out to buy the essentials. "Sainsbo's" as Lisa called it had plenty of skimmed milk, bread, beans and frozen chips in stock, but was low on his preferred brand of multi-vitamins. There was a chance that he'd get there after someone else snagged the last one, so he opened a new tab to check if the Boots on the same street had any in stock.

He was suddenly aware of very light pressure on his thigh. He looked down and was met with a pair of big, round eyes. As he watched, a fluffy paw stretched up and towards his belly, to pat it with a soft, pathetic frailness that could only mean one thing.

"Have you decided it's dinnertime?"

Another gentle pat was followed by a tiny meow, barely audible.

"Oh come on, Normy, it's like two in the afternoon."

Maintaining unbroken eye contact, the cat hesitated, then went for an additional pat, firmer this time.

"I know, it's been raining all day. I'd be bored too. But we don't eat just because we're bored." He proffered a cupped hand, into which the cat inserted his head for a scritch.

Norman glanced back at his digital shopping trolley, bursting with lovely ingredients. His stomach rumbled.

"That said, you could maybe have a little snack." he said aloud, causing Norman the Cat to jerk back. "Is it time for a treat?"

Norman stood up, feeling both knees pop, and stepped towards the stairs. The cat kept pace with him, regularly attempting to twist figure-8s around his feet. "If you trip me and I fall down the stairs there will be no treats, you know." he chided.

At the top of the stairs he paused, one foot hovering over the next step. This was his favourite part. Norman the Cat checked the human's trajectory, then tore down the stairs as fast as he could. The carpet made ripping noises, the house creaked, and his long tail pinwheeled around with reckless abandon, whacking the wall and even thumping the back of Norman's little head in his haste to reach the food dish.

Norman chuckled and descended the stairs himself, knees popping but not hurting today, and retrieved the kitty treats--and a couple of human treats--from the cupboard.

Norman tends to keep to himself. He's not unfriendly, but he doesn't want to bother anyone.

Most days, he gets up and eats breakfast with Norman, after getting ready for work. Then he goes to work without seeing anyone. After work, he goes back home. Sometimes he goes to the park or the grocery store, but mostly Norman tends to keep to himself and he doesn't want to bother anyone with boring smalltalk.

Today was different, though. Norman was going home after work and bumped into a neighbor, Wendy. Norman had never met Wendy, but knew she lived a few doors down. She said 'hello' and Norman replied 'hello'. They both smiled at each other and then moved past each other after a brief pause.

As Norman got ready for bed that evening he wondered if he should have introduced himself to Wendy and hoped she didn't think he was rude.

The next morning Norman got up and ate breakfast with Norman, after getting ready for work. Then he went to work without seeing anyone. After work, he went back home without bumping into any neighbors.

Norman had been shopping and had gotten all that was needed - he was very pleased with the price of the Caffeine-Free Diet Pepsi. $4.99 for 24 cans equated to less than $0.25 per can.

As he moved towards the shopping trolley bay he realized that another shopper was moving towards the trolley bay, and would arrive at the bay just before he arrived and might then offer him 25 cents in exchange for his trolley. This made Norman apprehensive. These social interactions could be very fraying.

Fortunately the person decided they did not need a trolley, so Norman was able to return his trolley and retrieve his 25 cents without any human interaction.

"This has been a good shopping trip," thought Norman.

It was the first sunny Saturday in what felt like centuries.

Norman and his mother were taking the air in the formal gardens of their local park. Everything seemed to be in bloom--some talented horticulturists had done themselves proud this year--and they were drifting from colourful planter to colourful planter, oohing, aahing, and occasionally crouching down to sniff.

"Oh look at those primroses, Norman. I keep trying to encourage unnatural-looking ones like those to establish in my garden but they're always muscled out by the pastel ones that I stole from your granny's house."

"Maybe they'll feel more welcome if you stop calling them 'unnatural', Mum?" Norman teased.

"I was more thinking that mother's ones are bullies, rest her soul."

The ground was finally firm enough that they felt safe walking off the path, at least on the grass. A four-metre disc of daffodils caught their eyes--unlike the other planters dotted throughout the gardens, this one didn't have multiple layers of chrysanthemums, hyacinths and tulips arranged in rings to create a colour-balanced, multi-tiered display. It was just a cake of yellow nodding gently in the breeze, absolutely surrounded by beautiful people.

"Reckon those are fragrant?" Norman asked.

"Nah, not at that size. Why do all those kids have such big cameras? They're just daffodils."

"Instagram, mum. They're taking pictures of themselves and their clothing. For the Internet."

"Hmph."

They gave the planter a wide berth and soon found themselves by the fountain, where a ten-year-old boy was trying and failing to dribble a kickball under his leg. As they came past he tripped and caught himself on a bench, then angrily kicked the ball. Naturally it landed in the fountain, setting his little brother off crying and his mother off yelling.

"You know what, Norman, I think maybe I'd like to get lunch at the King's Arms before we head back." mum said matter-of-factly while looping her hand around his wrist. She leaned in, her softest grandma-smile on her lips.

"Dang that kid is even less coordinated than you were at that age."

"I turned out fine!" Norman's colour rose.

"Of course you did, dear." They passed out of the park gates, arm-in-arm, and crossed the street towards the pub. "You're an excellent accountant."

Norman sits at his wooden desk and pulls the chair in. He sits upright and reaches for his pen and finds it right where he left it. He grabs his checkbook and a pile of sealed envelopes. Norman likes to pay his bills with checks because he enjoys sending letters.

Opening the first envelope, Norman is disappointed that it's an ad for a loan. He reads the entire page, front and back, then decides he doesn't need a loan and discards the paper. He moves on to the next envelope where he finds a bill stating that he owes $132.15 for electricity this month. He smiles and opens his checkbook.

After sealing the envelope, Norman carefully writes his name and address on the return section of the envelope, puts a stamp on the envelope, and holds the letter in front of him. It's a good letter. He reads the envelope and stands up.

Norman leaves the house and walks to his mailbox. Opening the mailbox, Norman places the letter inside and centers it with the words facing him. He closes the door, puts the red flag up, and walks back inside. A job well done.

Norman returns to his desk.

Norman sits at his wooden desk and pulls the chair in. He sits upright and reaches for his pen and finds it right where he left it. He grabs his checkbook and a pile of sealed envelopes. Norman likes to pay his bills with checks because he enjoys sending letters.

The air in Norman's bathroom was almost opaque with steam.

"For the man who tried to hurt you, he's explaining the way I'm feelin..." he mumbled along with his little waterproof radio, working what was left of his hair into a foamy mound. He was trying to psych himself up for the presentation he had to give in the morning. If he was honest it was Lisa's to make but she insisted that everyone would appreciate a break from her droning.

He tilted his head back to rinse, holding his breath to mouth out "clearer di-Mensions!" Norman didn't think Lisa droned at all. She always made the quarterly figures sound like excellent news or exciting challenges as appropriate. Even if you couldn't muster an opinion on the talking points, it was nice to hear her enthuse about them, punctuated with grievous puns that nevertheless made him chuckle. Sure he had a hard time staying awake for the regional sales analysis but he was a mere mortal. He lathered up an armpit just in time for the chorus.

"that Iiiiiiiiiiiiii-iiiii wanna fall from the staaaarrs" he sang, loud and clear. "straight into your arms IIII-IIII, feeeel--Hoo!"

He snapped around to face a cold gust. The door to the bathroom was suddenly standing wide open, his warm cloud billowing out into the corridor. Through the mist he could just make out a small, tabby figure judging him from the threshold.

"Oh come on! Not again!" Norman cried, huddling under the water for warmth. The cat blinked at him, seemingly satisfied, before turning to slouch down the corridor. "How can you open it but not close it?"

"Grow some thumbs!"

Norman settled into his recliner, coffee in hand. Ahh, a perfectly cozy Sunday morning, he thought as his cat, Norman, yawned lazily from his perch on the sofa. He had just finished breakfast and was looking forward to playing some Sudoku in today's paper, a favored ritual of his. Reaching for his reading glasses, he suddenly became alarmed. One of the arms had come unattached!

"Dag nab it!" he said aloud as the now-disembodied arm clattered to the floor. A flush of warmth crept up his face as he made eye contact with a very concerned-looking Norman. "Oh, my! Excuse my French," he mumbled, embarrassed. It was the second time in a week Norman had come so close to cursing, and he was determined not to make a habit of it. But these had been his favorite reading glasses, so he reasoned that he could let this one slide.

He sighed and picked up the plastic arm, examining it as best he could. Though the glasses had been a simple pair of cheaters from CVS, Norman preferred not to throw things away if they could be fixed instead. From what he could see, it looked like there was a piece of metal that had simply fallen out of the hinge; perhaps it could be glued back in!

Excitedly, he rummaged through his kitchen junk drawer to find a magnifying glass. Now able to see what he was doing, he pushed the arm back into the hinge, test-fitting the fix. It seemed like it would work.

"Eureka!" he exclaimed to Norman. "All I need is a drop of glue, and I'll be back in business." But Norman didn't have any glue on hand, and he was reticent to go into a store on a Sunday morning, a time when he felt people shouldn't be at work. This might be a problem best left for Monday, he thought to himself. Perhaps he could even enlist the help of his coworker, Lisa, in the repair effort; she had steady hands and an eye for detail.

Smiling to himself, Norman put the separated pieces of his glasses into the travel case he'd purchased when he bought them. He donned his backup pair and sat back down with his still-warm coffee to play some Sudoku.

It was the third Thursday of the month, and time for Norman to get his monthly haircut. Norman had been going to the same hairdresser for 15 years. Barbara at Super Value Cuts. She smelled of stale tobacco and had a lot of dog hair on her clothes but was always really nice to Norman and talked a lot, so he didn’t have to carry the conversation. He always appreciated that. Norman also liked that Barbara kept his hair neat, tidy and consistent. He never had to worry about getting a bad or weird haircut, or looking like a different person. She always knew just what to do.

Norman strolled down Main Street towards Super Value Cuts. He smiled at the woman pushing her stroller. She didn’t notice, because she was on her phone and drinking a coffee too. But she seemed nice, Norman thought.

He walked past a few stores that had fashionable mannequins in the window. One of the male mannequins had red pants on, with a quarter zip navy sweater and a puffer vest. Norman chuckled and thought “wow, that’s a bold look.”

Finally, he approached the entrance of Super Value Cuts and walked inside.

Suddenly, Norman’s heart dropped.

He frantically scanned the salon. Where was Barbara?!

“Hi Norman!”, said Christina the receptionist.
Norman smiled nervously, “Uhh hi Christina. I’m here for my haircut. A little early. Is Barbara here.”

Norman shifted uncomfortably waiting for the answer, as Christina scanned the appointment book.“Ohhh no I am so sorry Norman. I was supposed to call you this morning. Barbara is sick today, so she didn’t come in. But Judy can take you if you don’t mind waiting 15 minutes?”

Norman felt hot, itchy, and like he was losing air. His eyes widened and his stomach churned. What would he do. This was a predicament indeed. Christina smiled patiently and waited for an answer.

Norman stood there blank for a whole minute while his brain ran through every possible scenario and outcome. He didn’t want to say no and reschedule otherwise Judy might be offended. He also liked the routine of the third Thursday of every month, and if he rescheduled it could be into next week. And then what would happen next month? Would his haircut be off schedule? Maybe that would ruin everything.

“Oh uhhh okay. Sure. I-I can. Err will wait for Judy then. Yes. That sounds wonderful. Thank you Christina.”

For the next 15 minutes Norman sat in the waiting area pretending to read a People Magazine while terrifying thoughts of what his hair might look like crossed his mind. He didn’t want Judy to know, but he was quite panicked.

When he sat down in Judy’s chair, he was relieved when she said, “Oh you’re Barbara’s regular. I’ve seen you in here. I know how you like your hair. I got you Norman. Don’t worry.”

This small gesture made Norman feel much more relaxed. He smiled, and said “Thank you Judy. I appreciate you filling in for Barbara. She always does such a nice job on my hair. I know you will too.”

Judy wasn’t as chatty as Barbara, and smelled like coffee and strong perfume, rather than tobacco, but she seemed very focused on her craft. At the end of the 15 minutes, Norman looked in the mirror and smiled. She turned him around so he could see the back and it was almost identical to what Barbara would have done.

Norman beamed appreciatively at Judy, “Thank you. Thank you so much. Here’s a tip for you.”

“Thanks Norman. See you next month! I’m sure Barbara will be better by then.” Judy laughed.Norman left Super Value Cuts feeling like a new man.

What a day! he thought to himself. What a day!

One temperate spring Saturday morning, Norman and Norman were outside in the backyard. Norman was doing whatever it is cats like to do out in the backyard, and Norman was sitting in a lawn chair, sipping a not-too-hot cup of coffee with a moderate amount of milk, and bird-watching. Norman enjoyed bird-watching, even if the only birds to watch were robins, and the occasional sparrow. That morning Norman was watching a cardinal (A cardinal! How exciting!) but Norman scared it away. Norman got up to pick up his cat so he didn't scare any more birds away, when his eye caught on a small, colorful something lying in the grass. Upon further inspection, he discovered it was a butterfly. But this one had a torn wing, and couldn't fly.

Norman brought the butterfly inside the house and set it on the kitchen table. He wasn't quite sure what a butterfly would like to eat, but eventually he settled on giving it a drop of honey and a bottlecap of water. He then decided maybe the butterfly would like a flower better, so he went outside to pick a dandelion, but when he came back inside the butterfly was already eating the honey.

That night, Norman and Norman went to the living room to watch TV, but then Norman thought the butterfly must be lonely sitting on the kitchen table all by itself. So he picked it up and set in on the small end table by his recliner in the living room. Norman sat back down in the recliner, but soon decided that the butterfly probably wasn't very comfortable on the hard table. What it needs is a bed, Norman thought, but what would make a suitable bed for a butterfly? Norman got up to search for one. Maybe a plate? No, not soft enough. A tissue? No, too thin. Eventually, Norman found an old pincushion in the attic. Perfect! He set the butterfly on its pincushion bed on the end table, and continued to watch TV.

The three had many pleasant evenings together watching TV, Norman in his recliner, Norman curled up on Norman's lap, and the butterfly (who Norman decided to call Norma) on her pincushion. But one night, Norman noticed that Norma was missing. After a bit of searching, he realized that she was flying! He opened the window to let her out, happy that her wing had healed.

And maybe it was just Norman's imagination, or probably just a different butterfly, but Norman was sure he saw Norma again the next spring.

One temperate spring Saturday morning, Norman and Norman were outside in the backyard. Norman was doing whatever it is cats like to do out in the backyard, and Norman was sitting in a lawn chair, sipping a not-too-hot cup of coffee with a moderate amount of milk, and bird-watching. Norman enjoyed bird-watching, even if the only birds to watch were robins, and the occasional sparrow. That morning Norman was watching a cardinal (A cardinal! How exciting!) but Norman scared it away. Norman got up to pick up his cat so he didn't scare any more birds away, when his eye caught on a small, colorful something lying in the grass. Upon further inspection, he discovered it was a butterfly. But this one had a torn wing, and couldn't fly.

Norman brought the butterfly inside the house and set it on the kitchen table. He wasn't quite sure what a butterfly would like to eat, but eventually he settled on giving it a drop of honey and a bottlecap of water. He then decided maybe the butterfly would like a flower better, so he went outside to pick a dandelion, but when he came back inside the butterfly was already eating the honey.

That night, Norman and Norman went to the living room to watch TV, but then Norman thought the butterfly must be lonely sitting on the kitchen table all by itself. So he picked it up and set in on the small end table by his recliner in the living room. Norman sat back down in the recliner, but soon decided that the butterfly probably wasn't very comfortable on the hard table. What it needs is a bed, Norman thought, but what would make a suitable bed for a butterfly? Norman got up to search for one. Maybe a plate? No, not soft enough. A tissue? No, too thin. Eventually, Norman found an old pincushion in the attic. Perfect! He set the butterfly on its pincushion bed on the end table, and continued to watch TV.

The three had many pleasant evenings together watching TV, Norman in his recliner, Norman curled up on Norman's lap, and the butterfly (who Norman decided to call Norma) on her pincushion. But one night, Norman noticed that Norma was missing. After a bit of searching, he realized that she was flying! He opened the window to let her out, happy that her wing had healed.

And maybe it was just Norman's imagination, or probably just a different butterfly, but Norman was sure he saw Norma again the next spring.

Some of Norman’s coworkers would occasionally bring their dogs into the office, a custom that Norman had no opinion about. One January day, Cynthia had brought her dog of a breed or perhaps a mix of breeds that Norman couldn’t identify. “It’s her gotcha day,” Norman heard Cynthia inform Kelsey, which drew a delighted “aww” from the other. Norman hadn’t a clue what that meant.

“Gotcha day?” Norman repeated in a curious tone that conveyed his unfamiliarity with the term; he was careful not to sound mocking or judgemental.

“It’s the anniversary of the day Mark and I adopted her,” Cynthia explained. “We don’t know when her birthday is, so this gives us something to celebrate every year.”

Norman told Cynthia that sounded very sweet.

Norman didn’t know his cat Norman’s birthday, either, and it hadn’t ever occurred to him to celebrate the day he’d adopted him from the county shelter. He couldn’t recall the exact date Norman’s gotcha day would be, but he knew it ought to be around this time—it had been snowing, he remembered, when he’d shopped for a litter box and two dishes. The shelter had even given Norman a little fleece tie blanket to keep warm in his carrier on the way home, a blanket that still rested atop Norman’s bed beside the fireplace. Norman hoped Norman’s gotcha day hadn’t already passed.

On his lunch break, Norman scrolled back in his phone’s camera roll until he found the photo he’d taken at the shelter the day he adopted Norman. There Norman was, looking a bit sad through the bars of his wire cage. The slip of paper fastened to the cage read:

“Name: Norman

Sex: Male (Neutered)

DOB: Unknown

Color: Brown Tabby”

Norman reminisced on how delighted he’d been to meet a cat who shared his name. He’d taken Norman home that very day.

Above the photo, Norman's phone display read “February 12, 2017, 11:41 AM.” February 12th was Norman’s gotcha day! Not long before Valentine’s Day, of course—Norman recalled how nice it had been to have someone to spend it with that year. Norman’s gotcha day was only a few weeks away, and Norman quickly made a note of it on the calendar pinned to his cubicle.

When February 12th finally arrived, Norman didn’t even need to check his calendar. He’d spent all weekend looking forward to Norman’s gotcha day. The morning unfolded as usual, with Norman meowing for his breakfast after several minutes of snuggling on Norman’s bed. Norman filled Norman’s bowl with wet food, which Norman was very excited about. Norman was usually only fed wet food once or twice a week, since it was quite a bit more expensive than Norman’s dry food. Today, however, Norman would be getting wet food for both breakfast and dinner. “Won’t Norman be surprised!” Norman thought.

Norman still had to go to work (it was a Monday, after all) so he left Norman a nice pile of crunchy treats to snack on throughout the day. When 5 o’clock rolled around, Norman went straight to a local pet supply shop, where he picked out a brand new toy as a present for Norman: a bundle of feathers attached to a string with a long plastic handle.

When Norman arrived home, he offered Norman his gotcha day present. He’d been a bit worried that Norman would have no reaction to the new toy, but he leaped up and batted at the bundle of feathers. Norman waved it around to let Norman chase it, and soon they were both running through the house. Both Normans had fun playing with the toy, and when Norman grew tired—he admittedly wasn’t in the best of shape—he let Norman catch the feathers with one final pounce. Then, he fixed Norman’s dinner with another can of wet food, which Norman found as enjoyable as Norman had expected.

Norman then reclined on the couch, and soon Norman joined him, curling up on his blanket beside the fireplace. Of course, Norman didn’t know it was his gotcha day, but Norman felt assured he’d given him a good day all the same. He was certain they’d both enjoyed the last seven years they’d spent together, and he hoped they’d celebrate many more gotcha days.

Norman awoke to the abrupt sound of his alarm clock radio beeping relentlessly at him until he rubbed his eyes and arose from bed. He felt more tired than usual but figured it was nothing a good hot shower couldn’t fix. Norman made himself some toast with butter, had a coffee, and fed Norman.

It was a mild day weather wise, so Norman grabbed his beige Members Only racer jacket from the back of the closet and darted out the door.

On the bus, Norman noticed that two younger people looked at him and nodded approvingly. One guy even said, “sweet jacket bro”. This confused him, because it was one of the oldest jackets that he owned, and he certainly didn’t think it was stylish. It was practical, and appropriate for the weather. Norman wasn’t one to attract attention, and this made him somewhat uncomfortable.

On the way into the office, Norman stopped to hold the door for a woman who was carrying a box. “Thank you so much”, she shouted back. Lost in thought about his earlier interaction on the bus, the woman was in the elevator before Norman had a chance to say “you’re welcome”. Norman decided to continue holding the door because he noticed another group of people walking slowly towards the building. He didn’t want to seem rude by not holding the door. They were engrossed in conversation and didn’t acknowledge Norman, except one of them towards the back of the group, who turned and said “thanks man. great jacket by the way.” Norman frowned, and felt a discomfort in the pit of his stomach. “Thanks”, he sighed as he forced an awkward smile.
Still holding the door, because there was a woman with a baby coming, Norman felt like he was overheating, and was a bit nauseous now. Why on earth are people noticing my jacket, he thought to himself.

After holding the door for a few more people, and when he was sure no one else was coming, Norman entered his office building and walked towards the elevator, now deep in his discomfort. He was a few minutes late for work by this point and decided to skip the social formalities and head straight to his desk.
Norman slumped down in his chair in his cubicle feeling completely out of sorts.
He was late, didn’t have time to stop in the lunch room to put his lunch in the fridge, and didn't get his morning office coffee either.

Frank noticed this and turned his chair around,
“Good Morning Norman. Not your chipper self today. Everything okay?”
“Uhhh yes. Uh Good Morning Frank. I don’t know” he said.
“It’s this jacket. When you put it on. Something happens.”

Norman was struggling to avert his eyes.

A young woman was standing in front of him on the escalator wearing a crop top and leggings with the word "Juicy" written across the seat in rhinestones. He was vaguely aware of Juicy branded trousers, but had never had his face this close to a pair before. The word glittered and changed colours as the escalator trundled past video adverts, now swimming-pool blue, now spicy-taco orange, now life-insurance beige.

Is that patch noisy on plastic chairs? Norman couldn't help but wonder. Or does it get caught on upholstered ones? I wonder if she's ever scratched furniture, or walls, or--could rhinestones scratch glass? Can glass scratch glass?

He rummaged for his Oyster card in his satchel. The adverts briefly flashed green for an electric company, embellishing the woman with emeralds. He looked away again, but as they reached the ticket hall and a February wind rattled the gates he couldn't help but notice that she didn't have a coat. His dad instincts threatened to offer her his, but a glance at her expensive handbag told him that this would not be appreciated.

After touching out and passing onto the street, Norman's attention was quickly drawn toward the bus rank. He marched quickly to his usual stop before pulling out his phone to check the departure board. 8 minutes. I must have just missed one he mused, tightening his scarf and plunging his hands into his pockets.

The Juicy-bum woman walked past him again, reflecting Coca-Cola red from the bus shelter advert. The passenger door of a waiting Audi opened and she glided into it. As it sailed away Norman reflected a moment, too.

Nope. Doesn't look like she got caught on anything.

It was a bright and sunny Sunday afternoon. Norman sat with his paper by the window quietly with Norman purring by his side. He noticed a slightly dusty sunbeam shining in through the window which made his tall beige wall suddenly catch his attention. Norman thought about how he had never painted before. The beige was always perfectly adequate. But a spark of inspiration crossed his mind. He pondered all of the paint colours there were to choose from and thought about what he would choose if it weren't beige. He looked at the newspaper in his hand and thought maybe grey could work, but quickly dismissed that. Too dark and dreary. Then he thought about blue, but got stuck in a mental ping pong game between light blue or medium blue until he decided that blue was just too much, and a bit too risque. Finally, he looked down at his Dockers. That's it he thought, this is the perfect colour. He stood up, as Norman stared at him blankly, and walked over towards the tall beige wall to compare. He chuckled to himself, I guess we had the right colour all along Norman.