The cat walked down the dark hallway.
Mara followed.
Pip followed Mara.
“Does he have a name?” Pip asked.
The cat stopped.
He turned around.
He looked at Pip.
Then at Mara.
Then he continued walking.
“I think that's a no,” said Pip.
They followed him around a corner.
There was a room.
It was a very ordinary room.
There was a chair.
A table.
A lamp.
A window.
And on the table was a plate of biscuits.
Pip stopped.
“Now we're getting somewhere.”
Mara laughed.
The cat jumped onto the chair.
He sat down.
He looked at them.
Mara looked around.
“I know this room.”
Pip frowned.
“Where from?”
“I don't.”
She walked to the window.
Outside was the garden.
The ordinary garden.
The tree.
The gate.
The street beyond.
Everything was exactly as it should be.
Except that the sky was purple.
Pip looked up.
“That's not right.”
“No.”
They watched.
The sky changed.
Purple became blue.
Blue became orange.
Orange became grey.
Then blue again.
Mara smiled.
“The glass.”
“What glass?”
She looked at the cat.
He was watching the sky.
“Perhaps we're seeing the world through something.”
Pip took a biscuit.
“I can see this biscuit perfectly.”
Mara smiled.
“That may be all you need.”
The cat jumped down.
He walked to the door.
Then stopped.
Mara opened it.
Beyond it was the library.
Pip groaned.
“Oh, come on.”
The library looked exactly as it had before.
The shelves.
The windows.
The green carpet.
The table.
But the green door was gone.
So was the blue door.
There was no map.
No book.
No pencil.
No strange staircase.
No mirror.
Nothing.
Mara walked to the wall.
She touched it.
Solid.
Ordinary.
She smiled.
“It's over.”
Pip looked relieved.
“Good.”
The cat walked to the middle of the library.
He sat down.
Mara crouched beside him.
“You knew the way.”
The cat blinked.
“Do you have a name?”
He blinked again.
Pip sat down beside them.
“We should give him one.”
“What?”
“A name.”
Mara thought.
“Green?”
“No.”
“Door?”
“Definitely no.”
“Map?”
“No.”
“Book?”
“Absolutely not.”
The cat stood up.
He walked towards the window.
Mara followed.
Outside, the sun was setting.
A clock in the library began to tick.
Mara looked at it.
The hands moved.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
Eight.
Then the clock stopped.
Pip stared.
“What's wrong with it?”
Mara looked closer.
The hour hand was pointing between two numbers.
The minute hand had disappeared.
The second hand was going backwards.
The cat jumped onto the windowsill.
Mara opened the window.
A cool breeze came in.
Leaves moved in the garden.
Somewhere a bird called.
Everything felt ordinary again.
Almost.
Pip looked at the cat.
“I think he needs a name.”
Mara nodded.
The cat looked at them.
“What day is it?” she asked.
Pip checked his pocket.
He pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.
He unfolded it.
“Thursday.”
Mara smiled.
“Thursday.”
The cat blinked.
“Thursday,” she said again.
The cat walked to the door.
He stopped.
He looked back.
Then he meowed.
Pip laughed.
“I think he likes it.”
Mara opened the door.
“Come on, Thursday.”
The cat walked out.
Pip followed.
Mara followed Pip.
They went down the library steps.
The evening was warm.
The street was quiet.
The world looked completely ordinary.
They walked home.
Halfway there, Pip stopped.
“Mara.”
“Yes?”
“Do you remember the house?”
“Yes.”
“The staircase?”
“Yes.”
“The mirrors?”
“Yes.”
“The book?”
“Yes.”
“The missing room?”
“Yes.”
“The other Mara?”
Mara stopped.
She thought.
“Yes.”
Pip smiled.
“Good.”
They walked on.
After a while, Mara asked:
“Do you remember the first door?”
“The green one?”
“Yes.”
“Of course.”
“Where did it lead?”
Pip thought about it.
“Here.”
Mara laughed.
“That isn't an answer.”
“It is.”
They kept walking.
Thursday trotted ahead of them.
At the corner he stopped.
He looked back.
Then he walked into the shadows.
Mara and Pip waited.
He came out the other side.
Nothing strange happened.
No doors appeared.
No walls moved.
No staircase turned upside down.
He simply walked.
Pip smiled.
“I like him.”
Mara nodded.
“So do I.”
They reached Mara's house.
The front door was ordinary.
Brown.
Not green.
No brass plate.
No sign.
Mara opened it.
Inside was the hallway.
Their hallway.
Their shoes.
Their coats.
Their ordinary lives.
Pip stepped inside.
He looked around.
“It's very boring.”
Mara smiled.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Thursday slipped through the doorway.
He walked into the kitchen.
Mara followed.
There was a bowl on the floor.
Thursday sniffed it.
Then he looked at Mara.
Mara filled it with milk.
Thursday began to drink.
Pip sat at the table.
Mara sat opposite him.
For a while they said nothing.
Then Pip looked at her.
“So.”
“So.”
“What happened?”
Mara thought.
“I don't know.”
Pip nodded.
“Me neither.”
They sat quietly.
Then Pip reached into his pocket.
He pulled out a biscuit.
It was slightly crushed.
Mara laughed.
“You kept that all this time?”
“Of course.”
“Why?”
Pip shrugged.
“You never know.”
Thursday finished his milk.
He jumped onto the chair beside Mara.
He curled up.
And began to purr.
Mara put her hand on his back.
His fur was warm.
Real.
Ordinary.
She looked towards the window.
The evening had become dark.
For a moment she thought she saw something green outside.
A little door.
Standing in the garden.
She blinked.
It was gone.
Pip noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Mara smiled.
The cat opened one eye.
Then closed it again.
On the table, beside Pip's biscuit, lay a small piece of coloured glass.
Mara picked it up.
She turned it once.
The kitchen seemed to change.
Not really.
Just slightly.
The table was still there.
The chairs were still there.
The window was still there.
Pip was still there.
Thursday was still there.
But everything looked different.
Not because it had changed.
Because she had.
Mara put the glass down.
She did not try to explain it.
Some things were better left unexplained.
Outside, the world continued.
The moon rose.
The trees moved in the wind.
Somewhere, a door opened.
Somewhere else, a door closed.
And somewhere in a room that might have been a library, or a house, or a page, a book lay quietly on a table.
Its cover was blue.
It had no title.
Its pages were blank.
All except the last one.
On that page was a single sentence.
THURSDAY WAS A GOOD DAY TO COME HOME.
Beneath it was a small drawing of a black cat.
The cat in the drawing had its eyes closed.
As though it were asleep.
But if you looked very closely—
just for a moment—
you might have seen one eye open.
And then close again.
The End