Sunday Night Betrayal

There’s a specific silence that falls on a Sunday night after the last glass is cleared. It’s a quiet filled with the echoes of a week’s worth of laughter and conversation. Our feline supervisor always seems to feel this shift the most. He sits on his perch on the stairs, watching the door, as if he can’t quite understand where everyone went. It’s a look that asks, “Where are you?” and the question hangs in the air. We’re closed on Mondays for a much-needed rest, making the wait for our community's return feel just a little bit longer. We’re resting, but we’re also waiting. See you on Tuesday.