There are a lot of regrets in life Leroy had, but at this exact moment in time with him walking down the street to take the bus, the only one that really stood out was his decision to do communications as a major. Not only was his current job only enough to live but not save for the future—it also had no signs of upward mobility since it was a small marketing start-up with a limited budget and a client list that showed no signs of growing.

Something Leroy also regretted was not paying too much attention at university or studying for exams, and now he was stuck with a below B average that was frankly not enough to get into a post-graduate program. So, sadly, he was stuck working a low-paying job and living paycheck to paycheck while paying off an ever-growing student loan debt.

It was funny how those worked.

He could have sworn it was only twenty thousand when he had graduated, but now, after just two years of monthly payments, it was somehow sitting at thirty thousand.

Leroy sighed, shaking his head as he continued on his way to the bus stop. It was a deserted place, seeing as it sat just at the edge of a suburban street. He still lived with his mother and sister and paying a bit of rent allowed most of his money to go into other things—like his video game addiction, Vietnamese food, and books.

"Oh fuck," he said, squinting and then sighing when he saw the bus, he was supposed to be on drove past the stop at the end of the street without a second thought. It didn't even pause for a second. For goodness' sake, Leroy was just two minutes away.

The young man blinked back his frustration, sucking in his lips as he tried to decide between taking an Uber or just calling home sick. To be honest, he could also just tell his supervisor what had happened. She was an understanding, and nice older woman nearing her sixties.

The young man sighed, pinching the middle of his thick dark brows before turning around and making the slow walk of shame home. Wisps of his brown hair, about two shades lighter than his brows, occasionally found their way dangling in front of his eyes. He would push them away, and each time taking that as a reminder that he needed to go into the city for a haircut.

It wasn't that Leroy couldn't drive. He could. He passed his driving test sometime in the middle of his university days and remembered taking his mother's car to the gym clear as day. It had been his first time truly driving alone, and he had backed it up into another car when trying to parallel his park.

That had been his first and last day taking out that car—and also, his last day at the gym, but he didn't like to think about it much.

Leroy found his current state in life embarrassing, but he wasn't too embarrassed by it to do anything about it. Or, it was more than his long stings depression and self-sabotage didn't have a lot of those brief moments of mania and self-confidence where he would be super studious and focus on one of the many skills he'd picked up over the years.

Growing up, he'd had better confidence, but hitting high school, and realizing it took more than just being smart to pass classes, began to humble him. Slowly but surely, he accepted that he was average—and maybe a little less than average, not just academically, but looks-wise too. He had watched as his classmates grew taller, leaving him behind at a mere 5'6. He had also watched them bulk up, become more athletic, and grow facial hair. He had held out hope, feeling that he maybe was a late bloomer, but now twenty-five and still the very lean, short man who couldn't grow much of a beard was something he was starting to accept. He would say dating was hard, but he barely even tried. He had two friends—one he had met online and met up with once every other week because they had to take a one-hour train to meet up with him, and the other who was more of an acquaintance from childhood that he called his best friend, even though really at this age where they barely spoke or met up was starting to feel more like something they declared more out of habit than reality.

Leroy hadn't made a lot of friends in university, but he'd added people from classes to his social media here and there, and it was an indescribable feeling of shame to scroll through pictures of people celebrating graduating with honors or getting accepted into high-paying reputable jobs.

The young man made his way down the street, paying attention to the rows of old suburban houses that seemed to have been erected sometime in the sixties. Many of them had neatly trimmed yards with fancy lawn ornaments, while some of them hosted gardens. There was one, however, that was coaxed in the middle of two larger buildings—a small bungalow that hosted a basement with small windows just sitting under the deck. The lawn had long grass and wild sunflowers over three feet tall. The short fence was also covered with wrapping weeds. The house looked unoccupied with the dirty white brick walls and ominous feeling, but sometimes when Leroy would pass by, he would see the outline of someone from the sunroom door-length windows. There was also a wheelchair ramp that looked well-used.

Leroy did know that sometimes he saw a cat or two walking through the grass or perched on the fence. It was almost never the same cat, and Leroy couldn't decide if they belonged to the house owner or were just strays that were emotionally attracted to the property.

Leroy was coming up to this house now, and he looked at the overgrown lawn, checking to see if there would be a cat there today, and there was. It was black with deep green eyes that would close occasionally as it chewed on the grass. Leroy still had no idea why cats would do this, but it was a funny thing to watch. He chuckled, stopping in front of the picket fence, smiling as he lowered himself into a squat. He watched the animal, until the creature noticed him, giving him a curious look before letting out a small meow.

"Hey there..." Leroy said, reaching his hand between the gaps in the fence. This was a terrible idea. He had no idea if this cat had any shots or if it was violent, but Leroy had always had the weirdest deposition for living things. Maybe that was down to the fact that he'd never had any traditional pets. He'd that a turtle that his now late father had made him keep since his friend had cried during a sleepover about his father wanting him to get rid of it, and he'd had a frog—not one from the pet store, just one that he and his father had picked up while fishing.

Leroy blinked back tears, sighing before forcing himself to smile. He didn't like thinking about his father a lot. It was still fresh—some worth. Three years ago, the man had just passed away from cancer that he'd hidden his treatments for. Leroy could remember his world getting smaller, and his remaining family members becoming more distant. It was a memory and time that stood out, but not one he'd ever fully digested.

"Deedee."

A masculine voice made Leroy look up. He noticed a man on the porch of the bungalow, sitting in a wheelchair and staring out into the lawn.

"Deedee," the man repeated, shaking a bowl of dry food he'd had on his lap. The man had tan skin and loose light brown hair. His eyes were deep-set, and his nose was peculiar with its long bridge and button blunt tip. Leroy couldn't pin down an ethnicity. He looked ambiguous.

"Deedee" the man repeated, shaking the bowl more aggressively and this time the cat that was still staring at Leroy turned to look at the man. It must have noticed the food, because it sprinted up the wheelchair ramp, heading over to the man before meowing loudly. The man, who had a little irritated look on his face just before, smiled, chuckling a bit before placing the bowl down on the floor to let the man eat.

As this happened Leroy watched, observing this stranger that he'd never seen before. He'd always thought the house was abandoned with maybe an occasional visitor to clean around and maintain the property. The man must have noticed Leroy's staring because he looked up, locking eyes with the younger man, and Leroy felt the hairs on his body stand up. The man had piercing hazel eyes.

"That's a cute name," Leroy said, not enjoying the awkward silence. "Never seen a cat called DeeDee."

The man on the porch blinked. It was in that slow, exaggerated way. It was as if he expected Leroy to disappear once he opened his eyes. "Uh, thank you," the man said, forcing a smile before looking down at the cat that was going to town on the dry kibble.

"You know, he can just walk over the fence if you want to pet them," the man said, looking back at Leroy again as he alluded to the existence of the other cats in his house. "They don't bite and are quite friendly."

"Oh, okay..." Leroy said, standing up now. He tucked his hands into his pockets, letting his office bag sit to the side as it dangled off the strap on his left shoulder. "I think I would like that."

The man in the wheelchair nodded. "My name's Zackary. What's yours?"

"Leroy."

Zachary nodded. "Okay, whenever you're free, then."

Leroy nodded, humming a bit before turning around and making his way home. The interaction stayed with him and played back in his mind even after he called work and let them know he wouldn't be coming in that day. He wasn't sure what it was about that situation that stood out to him. Maybe it was the cat? Perhaps it was the ominous vibes of the house? Or the most probable on the list, the confusing man who had randomly said it was okay to entrench on his property.