It was a night at the Fat Cat that started it all. The Fat Cat at seventy-fifth, Christopher street. Ping pong, pool, a game of spades, and live jazz performances. Bray had gone because this would be the third chance spending a good amount of time with Nalani. They've met through a mutual friend, Ray Puna, who once had a fling with her (that bothered Bray, in all honesty). It didn't work well, he just wasn't ready to commit to anything, though she was. It left a weird impression on Bray.
It's been about a week since they last spoke. Bray was in his room, laying on his bed, speaking on the phone with a friend who'd just abruptly become a part of his life, again. The conversation was deliberately slow, he swallowed air for each paced deliverance, and with great effort, held any release of tears and the exhale of heavy emotion. It was a hard moment for him when he had heard tell of Nalani's thoughts on the situation that had transpired between the two of them. He had an idea of what she would say, but hoped for something different.
Nalani's room smells of cat food and cat piss from time to time, she's used to it. She owns two cats, adopting (or as she and most people would look at it, "saved") them rather than buying herself a new cat. Adoption to her is an idea of great significance because of the countless sheltered pets who've died due to the negligence of patrons who seek to go for the breeders.
She was eating what looked to be the smoke sage seitan burger or the beast-mode deluxe, but he couldn't tell. There was a weird thought in Bray's mind, he felt it. There was only the sound of Nalani chewing her food, and breathing heavily.