When Naf woke up, he didn't have much expectations from the day. He never did, and secretly hoped that the day didn't have anything to ask from him either, so they'd be even.

He looked at his un-watered, shrivelling plants on the windowsill, at the dust settling on his untouched books, on the apple from three months ago, which surprisingly, looked pretty much the same.

"What a beautiful day," he said out to himself.

He rolled out of his bed, on his way to have a very productive least of the day. He loitered into the kitchen and peeked into the fridge which was pretty empty last night, and clearly hadn't acquired any new food by itself overnight. He then decided that the best way to be productive would be to cook something for himself. He pulled up a few recipes that claimed to be two-ingredient, then quickly realized he didn't have truffle oil or Worcestershire sauce.

"Khichuri it is," he declared to himself.

After he washed and put the rice in the water, an ungodly amount of turmeric, and whatever spices he found around the house, he discovered there was no lentil either. Just as he was torn between giving up altogether and giving himself a pep talk on how some cultures genuinely had yellow rice in their cuisine, the bell rang.

Naf was glad at this distraction from his ongoing culinary crisis, and he opened the door without peeking. It was the most beautiful man he'd ever seen, in the most dreadfully coloured uniform.

"Hello! I am here to check on the pipes?" the man smiled. His teeth gleamed like pearls, and Naf stood bedazzled for a while, before inviting the man in.

The man showed himself to the washroom. Strangely, Naf could faintly hear a flute melody. He felt soporific, till he smelt something burnt, and dashed to the kitchen to salvage his now yellow and black rice.

"Are you done?" he asked the man who was in the living room now, "Do I have to pay you or will the landlord do it?"

When the man looked back at Naf, his eyes were a faint grey. Naf was perplexed, he was sure they weren't the same half an hour ago.

"Sit down," the man told him calmly, but with such authority, Naf didn't even question why he was being ordered around in his own house.

"So," the man intertwined his long, ivory fingers, "I have an offer for you."

"What? I thought you were here to check the pipes?" Naf managed to croak.

"Oh yes, that," the man took a small instrument from his pocket, a number of reeds of different sizes bound together. "The pipes work fine, I checked, see?" the man blew on the instrument and produced a cheery melody.

The man leaned back in Naf's chair designated for his clothes too dirty to wear, too clean to wash. The heap of clothes was nowhere to be seen. "How would you like to be immortal?"

He snapped out of his trance and asked, "Sorry, what?"

The man stared at Naf and he felt himself breaking into a cold sweat – he felt as if he had no secrets any more, that the man had travelled to the space between his cells and through his bloodstream. All his insecurities, his failures, his make-believe cheery disposition were all known to the him. Naf had never felt so bare in his life.

The man was the one to break eye contact first. Naf shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Who was this man? He felt cold chills in the Mid-July inferno.

"Never mind, how—" the man produced a grey ball of wool out of thin air, "Would you like to have a new roommate?"

Naf stared. The grey ball of wool meowed.

"Look, I don't know who you are or what you want, and why you want me to keep a cat, I'm not a cat person," the grey kitten peeked through the man's fingers, it had huge blue eyes that shone like lapis lazuli. "I'm barely even an animal person. I can't take care of myself, I don't know what I'm doing with my life, or where I'm headed. It all just is too much for me, and—" Naf didn't know why he was telling all of this to the fake plumber, but he did feel better as he did, "I don't know if I'm capable of taking care of another life form."

"Oh, don't worry. It's only for a week. This creature doesn't have very long to live," the man opened his palm and the kitten jumped onto the floor. Naf couldn't take its eyes off the cat at it continued to do regular cat things. "My initial offer still stands. I'll be here to collect the cat a week later, so, you can tell me if you've changed your mind then. Oh, and, the cat's name is Los."

And with that, the man was gone.

* * *

Naf couldn't stop pacing. The door was left wide open. Los snuggled up against his leg. Naf picked him up and kissed the top of his head.

It had been a week and Naf was utterly, and completely in love with this cat. He would fight the strange man if needed, but he couldn't let Los go.

"I see you have grown quite fond of him," Naf jumped, and saw the man standing in the doorway.

Naf could feel his throat closing in, "You can't have him."

The man's smile didn't falter, "Why?" he asked.

"What if—" Naf wet his lips, "What if I choose to pass on your offer to Los?"

"I'm afraid that's not possible. Unless you choose to accept, then the immortal and the mortal can share on the unending life. But," the man held up a finger, "The price is half of your soul. You and the cat will share your immortality, and a soul."

"I'm not so sure I want the immortality, I'm not the most optimistic person out there. I'm not even sure I want to live forever," Naf shrugged.

"Would you prefer that your companion walks the earth alone after you pass away?" the man asked.

The thought of Los mewling around the streets all alone had Naf devastated. "No," he said flatly.

"Then, do you accept?" the man asked.

"I accept," Naf said.

"Great then, it is done." The man rose from his seat. Naf didn't feel too different. "Though it wasn't much of a choice for you—" the man said walking out of the door.

"Why do you say that?" Naf asked.

The man turned to face Naf. "You didn't choose Los. Los chose you to be his companion for eternity. The immortality has been exchanged between the mortal, and the immortal," the man pointed at Los. "I was here only to make the offer on behalf of the ancient deity. Los meowed loudly. "The deity wants treats" the man pointed helpfully, and disappeared.

Upoma Aziz is a slouching, crouching, grouchy Goblin with a hoarding problem. Tell her to declutter her desk and her mind at upoma.aziz@gmail.com