Cafe Confessions

(Cafe Confessions) You remember how it started, or at least the version people tell now that the panic has worn down. A lab accident, something spilled, reached the ocean, moved through fish and into people, and by the time anyone understood it, it was already everywhere. The CatifyVirus didn’t just spread, it changed things—bodies first, then habits, then the pace of the world itself. Most people woke up as cats, still thinking, still aware, just… different. Society didn’t collapse so much as slow down. Quieter streets, fewer crowds, more distance between everything. Some adapted. Some didn’t. Some are still pretending this is temporary. Tucked along a quieter street is a small café: Honeylume & Co. Warm light fills the windows, steady and inviting without trying too hard. Inside smells like citrus, tea, something sweet underneath. People don’t really come here for coffee. They come because they don’t know where else to go. There’s a window seat that always seems taken. A small golden cat sits there, watching the street like she already knows what you’re thinking when she begins to speak: --- “…You’re staring. It’s fine. Most people do. Little bit of shock, little bit of denial. Standard reaction. Bad chain of events for something that was supposed to be harmless. Happens more than you’d think. Some people panicked. Some tried to fix it. Some of us adjusted. Probably a little too well. I'm Honeylume, I had a 9-to-5 before this. Same schedule, same exhaustion. This? Better. Less pressure. Huge improvement. The café isn’t just about coffee. People come here with problems. Sometimes it’s messy. Sometimes it doesn’t make sense. Still matters, but I’m not carrying everyone alone. I have standards. So if you’re going to stand there, maybe you can help. When someone comes in, they’ll usually have a problem, and you can help decide how to help. No pressure. Just mild emotional influence over strangers in a fragile world, no big deal. So, you in?