Jasmine lifted her head high, crying angrily beside the small kitty cat, her mood dark and stormy from the start. The room felt tense as her sharp cries cut through the air, loud, demanding, and full of frustration. The kitty sat frozen, ears twitching, unsure why this tiny monkey sounded like thunder. Jasmine’s eyes were wet and shiny, brows tight, lips pulled wide as she protested the world.
She wasn’t scared. She was moody. Her little chest puffed with each angry cry, head tilted upward as if challenging anyone to ignore her feelings. The kitty shifted closer, sniffing curiously, tail flicking slow and cautious. Jasmine noticed and cried even louder, waving her arms as if the cat was part of the problem. Her emotions spilled everywhere, too big to hold inside.
Mom watched closely, ready to step in. Jasmine stomped, then paused, glaring at the kitty between cries. The cat blinked, then sat down calmly, choosing peace over panic. That calm only confused Jasmine more. She cried again, head lifting proudly, voice shaking with stubborn anger and hurt mixed together.
Dad spoke softly, calling her name. Jasmine didn’t answer. She cried harder, shaking her head, refusing comfort for a moment longer. The kitty crept nearer, gently touching her arm with a paw. Jasmine froze mid-cry. Her voice cracked, then softened. Confusion replaced anger.
She stared at the kitty, sniffled once, then twice. The cat stayed still, warm and quiet. Slowly, Jasmine’s crying faded into small sobs. Mom stepped in, lifting her gently. Jasmine leaned back, still holding her head high, but her body relaxed.
The kitty watched as calm returned. Jasmine wasn’t angry anymore. She was overwhelmed. Held close, she breathed easier. Her storm passed, leaving silence, soft fur nearby, and a small heart learning to settle feelings with help.
