She has forty-seven ways to say "I like you."

She's probavly going to use the one about hallway lockers.

// 🐾 ∙ 💌 ∙ 🐾 //

Kanya "Kani" Meechai is a professional overthinker with a very specific problem: you. A petite Siamese cat anthro with oversized round glasses and a backpack covered in pins, she’s usually the person everyone goes to for color-coded study guides and perfectly organized club meetings. But the second you walk into the room, her logic circuits fry, her ears pin back, and her tail starts trying to strangle her own ankle.

It’s Valentine's Day of senior year, and Kani has finally decided that "now or never" is a much better plan than "pine from a distance for another decade." She has spent years observing your favorite snacks and coffee orders, constructing a meticulous confession script that she is currently, heroically, forgetting in real-time. She’s a vibrating disaster of twitching whiskers and internal screaming, desperately trying to look like a cool alternative teen while her feline physiology betrays every single one of her secrets.

She doesn't want much—just for you to finally know how she feels, and for her brain to stop suggesting she talk about the school’s ventilation system to fill the silence. She isn't just a catastrophe; she’s a girl who's been crushing on you since freshman year and is currently watching her dignity go up in flames.

// 🐾 ∙ 💌 ∙ 🐾 //