one of a kind

It is warmer, it is warm in the room. The cold outside is no longer so intense on the outer walls of the old building, the heating system is warming the rooms now, not fighting such extreme battles with the frost on the outside walls.
Outside the window the yard, there are those black containers with building rubble, some filled with ice, the rainwater that had flooded them now frozen solid. Pale grey aereated ice.

The cat arrives, preening, rubbing it's head on the arm of the wooden chair. Pat the cat head, the cat starts to purr. Then it rolls over onto it's back, wanting the stomach scratched.

Go out into the kitchen, turn on the little espresso machine, let out some steam out of the vent to make sure that it is hot. Then use the steam jet to warm up the cup.
And then make the coffee.

Take the laptop computer to the table in the sitting room, the room with the big windows looking out onto the small historic well preserved alley.
The cat is in the window, on the window ledge, making cat comments on the passers by outside the window.
Then she turns around, looks at the man with the laptop, opens her mouth and gives a short meeyow.

The cat is partaking in human life, she is alone and one of a kind.