A Winter Afternoon, a Park, and One Very Judgmental Cat

One winter afternoon felt like one of those let’s just walk and see where the legs take us kind of days. So I walked into the park...and instantly felt like I’d entered a paused movie.

No people.
No noise.
Not even that one uncle who always walks like he’s training for the Olympics.

It was just… empty.

The afternoon light stretched long shadows, the kind that make you wonder if everyone else quietly disappeared while you weren’t looking. The cricket ground looked especially heartbroken. The pitch sat there, lonely and dramatic, clearly missing the boys who usually run around it like they’re about to be selected for the national team.

The railing had vines creeping over it, growing freely, confidently...like finally, no humans to interrupt us.

Dry flowers hung around, tired of winter, tired of pretending they still smelled nice. Even they seemed done.

I sat there thinking, Wow. Time has really stopped, hasn’t it?
Or maybe it didn’t stop...
maybe it just forgot about me.

The cold wind brushed past, the sun stayed polite but distant, and the whole world felt unusually quiet.
Not peaceful-quiet.
More like everyone has gone home and didn’t invite you quiet.

And then… I found her.

A cat.

Sitting calmly on the lap of a palm tree.

Don’t ask me how she got up there. I still don’t know. Cats don’t follow logic. They just arrive where they want to be.

She looked at me like, So? What are you doing here?
I smiled back like, Same question.

And just like that, I didn’t feel alone anymore.

The world might’ve been sleeping, but the cat and I were very much awake...quietly existing, sharing the park without words. It felt nice knowing that even when humans disappear, something warm and alive is still around.

If not a person, then at least a cat.

And honestly, sometimes that’s even better.

But then I thought... maybe the cat understood something I was only beginning to notice.

That quietness, that stillness, that empty park… it wasn’t sad by itself. It actually looked beautiful. Calm. Honest. Like the world without makeup. Sometimes, just like the cat, one wonders or even desires moments like these... where there’s no noise, no rush, no one asking anything from you.

Quiet places have their own kind of magic.
They let you hear your thoughts properly.
They let you breathe without explaining why.

But even in all that serenity, something small can change everything.

One good partner.
One easy companion.
One presence that doesn’t try too hard.

Suddenly, the silence doesn’t feel heavy anymore. It turns into shared smiles, random laughter, pointless conversations, and moments where nothing important happens... but everything feels alive.

Just like that cat in the tree.

She didn’t break the quiet.
She completed it.

And I realised... being alone isn’t the problem.

Being unseen is.

And sometimes, all it takes is one soul...
human or feline... to remind you that the world hasn’t stopped after all.

It’s just waiting for you to feel seen, even in the quiet.