Inside the arcade, there he is: the fish guy.
A soft-hearted middle-aged man who seems to think wearing different clothes each day would be unfair to the fish. He’s always in the same outfit.
Sometimes, when our eyes meet, he tosses me a little fish. But today, he’s too caught up in setting up his display to notice me.
No matter. First checkpoint: clear.

Pat pat—the familiar sound.
It’s the couple who practice badminton every morning.
For convenience, I call the man “Bad,” and the woman “Minton.”
They’re in the middle of the arcade, where most of the stores have long closed.
They rally the shuttlecock back and forth in silence, and usually Bad loses quickly.
But today, he’s holding his own.

“Hang in there, Bad. Feathers don’t suit a man,” I mutter.
They don’t respond. Can’t blame them.
They don’t speak cat.

Second checkpoint: clear.

And now—ugh, them. The pigeons. Always clumped together near the burger joint.
I’ve never liked how they move as a pack. I’m more the solitary type. Makes them look foolish.

I could spook them, just for fun. But I’ll let it slide today.
They sometimes gang up on me, not that I’m scared or anything.
Still, I pass carefully, just in case.

Third checkpoint: clear… yep, we’re good.

Then there it is—the big square machine.
They call it a vending machine.
If you get close to the back, it blows warm air. One of my favorite spots.

I’ve studied it a long time. Seems you push a button and something drops out.
Fascinating. But I can’t reach the buttons. Eventually, I gave up on that dream.

I sit there for a bit. Today, though, the air feels… not as warm.
Strange. It usually is.

Anyway. Fourth checkpoint: also clear.

With all the checkpoints checked, I head back to the arcade entrance.
This is the highlight of my patrol. He’ll be here soon—the young man in the blue cap, delivering something on his bike.
He always says hello. I always try to meow back, even if I’m half-asleep. Gotta keep it professional.

While I wait, I glance again at the flowers by the guardrail.
They don’t smell like much. Curious, I step closer to sniff.

Then I hear a bicycle stop behind me.
His voice. I turn and give my best meow.

That’s better. Now I can start the day feeling good.

I start to leave, crossing the main street again, and I glance back.
He’s still there, talking to the flowers. He looks… a little sad.

That’s odd. I’m right here.

And that’s when it hits me.
Why the fish guy didn’t see me.
Why the vending machine wasn’t warm.
Other things too.

I look down at myself.
I don’t really feel like I’m there.
Then come the memories—so clear, like a still photograph.
A truck’s front grille. Chrome shining.

So what now?
I mean, I guess this patrol doesn’t mean much anymore…

I look back at him one more time.
He waves to the flowers and smiles—just a little—and then pedals off, feeling a bit lighter, maybe.

The blue cap gets smaller.
Then it’s gone.

I can’t bring myself to move.
People walk by now, more and more of them.
But no one bumps into me. No one sees me.

I remember his smile.

Guess I’ll wait for him again tomorrow.
Pretty sure I said that out loud.