Part 4 - Retreat, Returns, Downtown, and Questions

All discussion disintegrated as she crept along the side of the grass with her fingers stretched out. I had to sprint and make use of a few dark corridors to lose her. I cowered in the elevator for longer than I’d be willing to admit while jumping at every scrap of light blue.

She was sure to try touching someone else and find out that it didn’t work. Well, hopefully, didn’t work. Unless I’d somehow unleashed a plague upon the world if she could, and her creations felt the same way. I tried not to think of that.

I returned to my apartment when it looked like things were clear and waited there a little longer. It wasn’t until about an hour had passed that I worked up the courage to make sure a replicating catgirl army wasn’t just outside my door. Everything seemed normal, but I didn’t try my neighbor’s side of the complex. I made a couple of circuits of the area before I determined she’d likely gone inside to do things I could only imagine.

Even the landlord catgirl had disappeared. I figured either the neighbor had gotten her, or she’d decided on something else to do. I left things alone and made a promise to myself I wouldn’t try anything for a while. I really tried to keep that promise. I did, for a little bit.

But I remembered I had books which I needed to return to the library down the block. Not touching people might seem like a terrible imposition for most, but I soon realized that I didn’t need to do anything different than I usually did to avoid accidental contact. I tried to find people when I realized that. Not to touch them, but just to think about things.

I could’ve returned all my books without touching anyone, but I noticed a young librarian was stocking the request shelves as I dumped my old books into the main slot.

I walked around the other side and laid a hand on the top row. I peered through the books to catch a glimpse of her. She resembled a nursing student from the Philippines who I used to know back in college. One of the few people I ever really got to know in college.

Barely more than a friend but, if anyone ever asked, I mentioned her to make them leave me alone. Always polite and kind, she had a sinking sadness in her eyes about caring for her ailing mother all the time, which reached its lowest depths when her mom suddenly died. When she told me, I placed my hand on her hand (my every muscle twitching with nervousness) and told her, “She was in pain for a long time and she’s not hurting now.”

Immediately, I felt that was a dumb thing to say, but I managed to commit to it with my head dipped down. She gave me a hug I still remember vividly and thanked me. I only really saw her when we shared the same core requirement classes, but we messaged each other occasionally before she moved to a bigger city south of Brookville. I didn’t see her again after that, but I put some thought into how she might look as a catgirl. It would be adorable.

Wrapped up in that pleasant memory, I slipped my hand through the crack to the other side where the librarian was placing new books. Without thinking about it, one of my fingers grazed hers as she set down several books in a row. The books shifted as she uttered a quick and startled, “Oh!”

My nerves fired up and I leaned around the shelf to see what was happening. Her changes were subtle. Her hair was a rich, brown flow of long locks which settled in soft bands like narrow ears dipping down against the stems of her slim, rectangular glasses. The short bits that rested under the long parts on her forehead shimmered in the sharp, fluorescent and natural light blend of the library. I could tell she had once been wearing a tan top with a darker skirt past her knees. Her hands remained narrow with long fingers.

As I watched, her full hair bloomed further to rest and curve against her shoulders. Her long locks around the front of her face swelled and a little sprout of hair from her forehead dipped down between her eyes. From the top of each side of her head popped a cat ear swaddled in fur which matched her hair. Her wide, brown eyebrows arched as she reached up to feel the top of her head.

Meanwhile, her skirt had acquired a few rolling pleats and slipped just above her knee. Her top had taken on the look of a collared blouse and vest with rich shades of yellow and pink. It wasn’t long before she discovered the slim but bushy tail that dipped out the back of her skirt and nearly touched the ground.

With that outfit, she easily resembled one of the anime catgirls from my collection. All the exciting sensations of seeing stuff only on my screen before brought to life returned to me. More than any of the catgirls I’d made so far, I focused on not screwing things up this time.

Taking a calming breath with my hand next to my face, I asked, “Ma’am, are you okay?”

She turned her attention to me with a blush warming her cheeks as she stammered, “I…d-d-don’t know. I’m…s-something happened to me.” She soon muttered to herself about having a tail and her hands lingered on her ears curiously as they flicked and turned.

Without prompting, she said a clear but quiet, “Nyaa…” before her blush brightened even deeper into an apology. “Sorry! I…don’t know why I said that.” I assured her it was fine and thanked my luck that I’d brought my phone with me to the library. However, there was no chance that I could surreptitiously sneak it out for a critical photo opportunity. And there was no way I was going to ask for one.

She sought out her fellow librarians, who offered her some idea of what she looked like, before she scampered into a small area behind the checkout counter. I was patient. I waited. I asked questions and put on as much concern as possible as she returned with a slack jaw of amazement which barely-concealed a look of glee. She liked it! Well, my neighbor liked it too, but he…she freaked me out.

Suspicion around me was limited to a few curious looks from the more unflappable librarians, who seemed more concerned if I wanted to check anything out or not. The catgirl librarian’s attention was among her circle of friends and making calls before she finally took a cell phone picture of herself with a head shake of amazement.

I backed up when she went to investigate the spot where she’d changed, pointing out the books she’d set down. She didn’t seem to notice my part in the change, and I didn’t volunteer it. I was an outsider. Not a new role to me. I got to watch a brand-new catgirl marvel at herself and I could’ve been a mile away watching her or on another plane of existence. More library patrons took notice of her with idle chat and whispered questions. I drifted away as the spectacle murmured back and forth.

I noticed a figure in a black hoodie run their fingers along the spot the librarian had pointed out to the growing crowd. Considering everyone else around was avoiding the spot like it was contaminated, that got my attention. Some bystanders even pulled the figure away from the shelf in a panic and admonished them. I squinted my eyes. Their head was down and, with the hoodie, it was hard to really make out their gender. I noticed their hair fell around their face and had the same tone my neighbor’s used to have. From my position, that was all I could see.

As I looked back at the crowd, I could imagine myself speaking up. I could imagine making the claim that I had done it. From there a knotted story about not realizing whether it would work, accidental touch and all, tumbled out of my head as a lie I could tell. Maybe the one in the black hoodie would jump for me. Maybe others would as well, to challenge my claim.

But I also feared facing down the librarian. She looked confused but still smiled about this. That was without me in the picture though. Once I entered it, there was no way to tell how things might change. I tucked my hands in my pockets, picked up the most interesting book on the shelf, and used the automated checkout. I had to dodge a group of people who nearly brushed up against me.

As I left the library, I saw the person in the black hoodie had taken notice of me. I hustled through the doors and out onto the main street. A violinist performed beside an open case with a few crumpled bills in it. I tossed them a single after promising to myself on the way in that I would leave them something.

Passing the hedges of the apartments next to the library and the oldest post office in town, I glanced back to see if the person in the black hoodie was still lingering behind me. They were.

Not exactly following, but it was curious we were both going the same way. I could take a right down to the train tracks and follow it past the furniture store and the Thai restaurant in a roundabout route back to the apartment or I could take the more direct way to the right through the farmer’s market. Or I could zigzag in some manner of the two. Or I could just turn back and confront the stranger. Yeaaah…like I’d ever do that.

I went with more of a straight route past the small theater, which everyone told me to visit for their improv shows. I circled around the old grammar school which was apparently one of the oldest buildings in town. It had fallen into extensive disrepair compared to the fancier old landmarks the city actually cared about. A check behind me revealed that the black-hoodied person was taking the same route.

I could cut through the campus next to the grammar school with buildings nearly as old and new solar towers covering the parking lot. I wasn’t particularly sneaky but moving around the corners made me feel like I was a little sneaky and I even lost sight of my follower. Until I came around to the next street and they stood in front of me with a glimmer of blue eyes poking out through the shadows of their hood.

Clearing my throat, I asked, “Hey…sup?”

“I know it was you. I saw it from over by the magazines. You slid your fingers in-between and touched her.” The figure’s voice didn’t really give any clear sense of gender and only served to confuse me further. I knew the teen magazine area to my right was closed and the guards at the security desk were out of my line of sight. I hadn’t considered behind me, the mystery genre shelves, the information desk, and where people could look through recent magazines.

Slowly, I swallowed and offered, “I was just browsing, really. I don’t know what happened.”

Even with the hoodie, I could tell they were scowling as they responded, “I know what I saw. I’m not dumb.”

I winced and let go of potential protests with a sigh. I just asked, “And?” I glanced away but felt the figure drawing closer.

They rolled up a heavy hoodie sleeve and presented their bare arm to me. “You don’t have to trick me. You don’t have to lie or hide it. Touch me.”

I felt clammy around the neck. My legs shivered and I found it hard to breathe normally. I’d been looking for someone like this. Someone willing. My head began to pound like the onset of a sinus cold. I kept my hands deep in my pockets. I didn’t want to look them in the eye even though their blue gaze was latched on to me.

I managed to get out the question, “Do you even know what you’re asking?”

Close enough that the figure could’ve touched me directly if they wanted, they said, “I’d like to find out…”