07/21/2025
HE SAID HE WAS JUST “KEEPING HER WARM”—BUT IT MEANT SO MUCH MORE
I saw him sitting on the Blue Line, two seats away from the back. His coat zipped up tightly, his worn-out shoes barely holding together. He carried an exhaustion that didn’t come from lack of sleep—it came from the hardships of life.
But it wasn’t him that caught my attention—it was what he was holding.
In the crook of his arm rested a tiny kitten, no older than a few weeks. She was curled up like she had been there forever, safe and secure. He held her with such care, as if she were fragile, made of paper and dreams. She was sound asleep, her tiny paws tucked beneath her chin, purring loud enough to be heard over the hum of the train.
Everyone else on the train seemed oblivious.
I moved closer, sitting across from him, and quietly asked, “Is she yours?”
He glanced down at her, his lips forming a soft smile. “No. She just found me.”
He shared how he had come across her three nights earlier, in an alley behind a bakery. She was crying, soaked, and freezing. He gave her the last bite of his sandwich and wrapped her up in the only dry scarf he had. “I thought I’d just give her one warm night,” he admitted, “but she didn’t leave.”
Curious, I asked where he was taking her.
“Somewhere better,” he replied. “There’s a note on the bench at 6th and Maple. Someone wrote that they’d help if I brought her back alive.”
A note?
My eyebrows furrowed in curiosity. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded napkin. Written in blue ink were the words:
“She answers to ‘Mina.’ Please don’t leave her. If you find her—bring her home.”
On the reverse side was a phone number.
But what h!t me hardest? The signature at the bottom of the note:
“Her little girl.” (continue reading in the first cᴑmment) 🥹👇
