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“You can head out if you want to. I can put everything back so you aren’t late.”

She laughs. “I made the mess. I’m not about to ditch.” She moves quickly, not very gracefully, but it’s entertaining. “Here,” she says, loading up my arms with loose items and boxes. “Those were over there.” She points to the far corner.

I stack them and wait for her to hand me more. Once we have the majority put away, we get ready to move the table. Margo’s face strains as it lifts, and when we set it down, she leans against it for a moment. Her face seems a little pale.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

She nods. “Yeah,” she says, breathless. “I just need a second.” After a moment she stands taller and smiles. “I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“Mm-hmm.” She maneuvers around the table. “All we need to do is put that chair back.”

We walk out of the unit and Margo waits outside while I set the chair on top of the table. When I come back, her cheeks are pink. Did she blush? If she did, why? Was it because of me?

I shake it off, pretending not to notice. I bend down and lock the door. “You have the picture, right?”

She nods and hands it to me. I put it in my pocket.

We walk back to the front gate and I make sure to close the gate behind us. As we walk farther down the sidewalk there’s a rustling in the alleyway, and I stop. “Do you hear that?”

“No.”

I hold my finger to my lips and look around.

There’s a faint whimper.

I follow the sound until I find the cat from earlier huddled behind a dumpster. It has blood dripping down its leg, and there are plastic rings around its neck from a six-pack. The plastic is also caught on a jagged edge of the dumpster, trapping the cat.

I take a step closer, and it hisses at me.

Margo pulls my arm. “What if it bites you?”

“Then it bites me. Someone has to help it.”

She grips tighter. “Isn’t there someone we can call to help? There are people who take care of strays.”

“No!” It comes out much more harshly than I meant. Then I say a little quieter, “Everyone knows what happens to strays no one wants.”

She lets me go. “Okay. You’re right.”

I inch closer to the cat. “Hey, buddy.”

Its hair stands up and its back arches as it tries to get away from me. Its hissing only increases.

“It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you,” I say. I reach into my jacket for my pocket knife. Then I slip my jacket off. Quickly, I throw it over the cat, leaving a small spot bare so I can stop it from hurting me while I cut the plastic. The cat thrashes about, and I feel it biting through the fabric.

I wince, but stay focused until the plastic is completely removed. Then, I jump back.

The cat scurries away the second it’s free. It slows halfway down the alley and tilts its head from side to side as if it finally realizes it’s free.

I smile.

“Daniel?”

My gaze shifts back to Margo.

Her brow furrows, and she reaches out to me. “You’re bleeding.”