"French Vanilla Latte," the barista called out.

Julian thanked the girl and took his drink. He was about to head out when he noticed the painting girl sitting alone at a table in the corner of the cafe. Her back was turned to him, but from the way her shoulders were shaking, it seemed like she was crying.

Unsure of what to do, Julian stood by the door for a moment. He hardly knew this girl. Their interactions had been limited to witty banter and coffee orders. How would she react to a near-stranger approaching her when she was clearly in an emotional state? Perhaps she was waiting for a friend who would be better able to comfort her. Maybe his presence would be considered a creepy intrusion.

A hiccuping sob reached his ears, and the girl buried her face in her hands. There was a tug at his heartstrings. He didn't know this girl. How could he comfort someone he didn't know? What if he said the wrong thing?

When another sob came from her table, he knew he couldn't do nothing. Hesitantly, he made his way over to her. The girl did not notice him even as he pulled out the chair across from her and sat down. After a moment of watching her cry into the sleeves of her oversized sweater, he cleared his throat. She jumped, knocking over her coffee cup. He reached out just in time to keep it from spilling. He gave her a sympathetic smile.

"We've got to stop meeting like this," he said.

The girl swallowed her tears and wiped her eyes, trying to smile at him. "Yes, it's becoming quite a habit of ours."

Her strained smile tugged at his heart even more than her sobs had. "Are you all right?"

She shook her head dismissively, waving away his concerns, and he was certain that he had overstepped the boundaries of their acquaintanceship. However, her smile dissolved into tears, and Julian found himself frantically passing her a wad of napkins. Not knowing if he should stay or leave, he sat stiffly in his chair, ready to bolt for the door at the first sign that he was making things worse.

"It's my cat," the girl said at last.

"Your cat?"

She nodded and blew her nose. "Yes. He's sick. I had to leave him at the vet last night for observations. I have to go back this morning, but they don't open until eight. So I decided to kill some time here, hoping that being in public would keep me from crying inconsolably like I did all night. But clearly that plan failed."

Julian passed her more napkins. "What's wrong with him?"

"I don't know. He won't eat, so I thought maybe he was being picky. But no matter what flavor or brand I buy him, he just won't eat. I mean, he's fourteen, so I guess he's older. I'm just not ready to lose him. If he..."

She couldn't finish the sentence before bursting into tears once more. Panicking, Julian searched the room for help. The barista was watching them but looked away quickly when Julian caught her eye. Hopefully she didn't think he was the cause of the painting girl's tears. He turned back to the girl. He could see she was trying to get ahold of herself but to no avail. She gasped for breath, muffling her sobs with the sleeve of her orange sweater.

He had to do something. Anything. Say something. Something to make her stop crying.

"I have a cactus," he blurted out.

What? Why would he bring up his cactus at a moment like this? He was going to look daft and insensitive. A girl was crying in front of him, and he brings up his houseplant. Genius.

However, the strange declaration somehow pulled the girl's attention away from her sorrow. Her tears stopped, and she looked up at him, slightly confused.

"His name's Stewart," Julian said.

She stared at him for a moment. "You named your cactus?"

"Yeah, well, my apartment doesn't allow pets, and I figured having a pet plant would be a little less crazy than a pet rock."

After another moment of staring, the girl began to laugh. Relief washed over Julian's entire body, and he finally relaxed in his seat, no longer poised to flee. Her laughter continued much longer than he felt the lame joke deserved. When finally she stopped, there was a far more genuine smile on her face, making his smile less desperate.

"However, if I had a choice, I would rather have a cat," he said.

"Well, cat's are less likely to scratch you when you pet them. But only a little less likely."

"What's your cat's name?"

"Fox."

"Fox? Is he orange?"

The girl's smile grew, revealing a small gap between her top front teeth. "No, he's black and fluffy. Here."

She pulled out her phone and opened it to the lock screen. Behind the displayed time was a picture of a girl in a black winter coat—her, he assumed, although her face was obscured by the furry hood—holding a long-haired black cat wearing a harness. There was snow all around them, and the cat's pink tongue was out, as if he were trying to catch the snowflakes.

"He likes the snow?" Julian asked.

"He doesn't seem to dislike it. Although, he doesn't much like being wet when it melts in his fur."

"So why did you name him Fox?"

"I'm not sure, really. I was ten when we got him, and when I saw him, the name Fox just popped into my head."

"Well, it's more interesting than Stewart."

She laughed again. "I think Stewart is a lovely name."

"Oh, you're just being nice." He gestured to the phone. "Fox is a very handsome cat."

"He is. He's sweet and playful and naughty as can be, but he's my favorite thing in the world. I just don't know why he's sick. I'll never forgive myself if I lose him."

Her eyes teared up again as she stared down at the picture on her phone.

"It's not your fault," Julian said.

"It could be. Maybe I left a needle lying around and he swallowed it. Maybe he'll need surgery I can't afford. Maybe I'll have to put him..."

She choked on the words. Julian leaned forward and dared to lay a reassuring hand on her arm. Looking up at him, the girl swallowed her tears and wiped her cheeks with her sleeve.

"Whatever happens, Fox will just be happy to see you. I'm sure he's missing you as much as you're missing him," he said.

The girl nodded and gave him a smile. Taking a deep breath, she said, "Thank you."

He pulled his hand away. "Thank you?"

"For making me laugh."

He returned the smile. "Glad I could give you some respite."

Glancing down at her phone again, the girl let out a sigh. "I'd better head over there. They open in a few minutes."

They both rose to their feet and made their way outside. "I hope it all goes well," Julian said.

"So do I. Thank you, again."

Sharing one last smile, they turned in opposite directions. Julian took a sip of his latte, trying to think about his plans for the day but finding himself distracted by the image of the painting girl and her cat looking adorable in the snow.