So I have carried the kitten to our home. He is a ginger lttle one. While we were arriving by bus it was so stressful, I heard him weeping and often opened the bag to pet him.
The house of his owner was the common house where every post box was distroyed and the lift was the public closet. The door among the dark dusty coridor with sounds of child’s cry was opened by a boy. He was in a T-shirt and pant. That’s all. I couldn’t be talkish with him in such wear and just took the kitten. By the main door of the house I met the ginger adult cat. His father I presume.
But the first part of the day I was in my room drawing the storyboard. It was the day to do badly but still do. (afterward it won’t be bad just pictures I had done.)