How Souls Find Warmth

“Warm the souls, dear,” barked Victor Roman, tugging at the collar of his crisp white shirt. He snatched the tie from his wife’s hand and stared at her with a sharp glance.
What are you hiding? Hand me the one I brought back from London. Ive got a meeting with the director this afternoon.

Nora found the requested tie and slipped it to him without a word.
So, no chance of tying it yourself? muttered Victor, his chin lifted, as he watched her knot the tie in his favorite pattern.

He ogled his reflection, smirked, and adjusted the knot, offering Nora a patronising look as if to say, You just cant get it right.
Take the eggs away I dont want them. Pour a coffee and make some toast, he ordered from the kitchen, seated at the table. The coffees gone cold! You cant do anything properly! his irritation seeped into every sentence.

At the kitchen doorway, his fiveyearold granddaughter, Poppy, who had arrived yesterday with her mother for a weeks stay, leaned against the frame, watching her grandfather with the curious eyes of a child.

Come here, Poppy, Victor cooed, reaching out. He settled her on his knee and whispered something soft, hoping she would cling to him, giggle, and hug him. Instead, the little girl looked up and said,
Granddad, why are you speaking to me like that? Only kind people speak that way.

Am I not kind? Victor asked, surprised.
No, youre not. It feels cold here, Poppy touched his chest with her tiny hand, then slipped off his knee, walked over to Nora, and planted a gentle kiss on her cheek. Good morning, Grandma.

Bewildered, Victor barely heard the brief honk of his car; his driver, Vince, was already waiting outside. He hurried from the table, threw on his coat and freshly polished shoes, grabbed his briefcase, and headed for the door.
Dont expect me for lunch. I might stay late this evening, he shouted as he left.

Descending the stairs, Victor felt the familiar surge of energy that always seemed to fuel his ambition. He was the sort of man who could move mountains with his subordinates, who would obey every directive without question, as long as deadlines were met. He never worried about how his team struggled; the work simply had to be done, even if it meant pulling allnighters. The troubles of some distant sheriffs deputies were of no concern to him.

Yet something gnawed at his soul. It was Poppys wordsher innocent accusationthat lingered. He growled, grumbling past each landing,
Youll understand when youre older, you little pest. Im not rude, Im strict! If I waver, chaos will follow, whether at home or at work!

Between the second and third floor he spotted a twomonthold kitten huddled under a warm radiator, eyes wide with fear as people hurried past.
Someones let a pest into the hallway. Ill tell the caretaker to get it out!

But the caretaker was nowhere to be seen, and fresh nighttime frost had blanketed the pavement and lawns.

Slacker! Victor snapped, stopping at the entrance, waiting for Vince to pull up. To the office! he ordered his driver, frowning as he slipped into his thoughts.

No one could ever tell him otherwise. Why? he thought. Because theyre scared. Poppy isnt scared. Shes brave! A childs truth cuts through my cold heart. He sat heavily, trying to convince himself that underneath his stern exterior lay a good man who wished everyone well.

Its a treacherous road today, icy, Victor remarked suddenly to Vince, who looked up in surprise; the boss rarely spoke so informally.
No problem, sir were on studded tyres, and the pedestrians will manage. The frost is biting, too.

A few words exchanged, and Victor felt a strange warmth settle in his chest. Looking out the car window, he saw people shivering at a bus stop.

Look, Vince, thats our lady from the supplies department, Lucy, he pointed to a young woman barely older than his own daughter. Lets give her a lift.

As you wish, sir, Vince replied, pulling up beside her.

Lucy, hop in quick before you freeze solid, Victor said, mustering a friendly smile. Lucy returned the smile, slipped into the back seat, and brightened the atmosphere with her sparkling eyes.

What are you hiding in your pocket? Victor asked.

Look, she reached into her coat and produced a tiny shivering kitten. I was waiting at the stop and this little thing kept running from one person to another, rubbing against shoes, crying. It was freezing, and nobody seemed to care. I scooped it up, wrapped it in my coat to warm it, and Ill take it home after work. My son will love it!

How old is your son? Victor inquired.

He turns seven today, starting first grade. Hes already pretty independent does his homework, heats his lunch, all by himself.

Victor recalled how, just weeks ago, hed ordered the supplies team to work overtime for no pressing reason. Lucys son must have been alone then, he thought, feeling a pang of discomfort.

Lucy, since youve rescued a cat, Ill give you the afternoon off to celebrate your sons birthday, Victor declared generously. Take him home, and Ill sort it all out with your manager. Vince, drive us to her house.

Oh, Victor, youre so kind! Lucy squealed. Do you like cats?

Must a good person love cats? he smiled.

Not always, but anyone who loves cats is bound to be kind, Lucy replied confidently.

As they neared the office, Victor asked his driver,
Do you have a cat?

Two, Vince answered with a grin. Two mischievous whiskered rascals.

The workday ran its usual business rhythm, and during lunch Victor, with his deputy, slipped into a casual chat.

Youve got grandchildren, dont you? he asked.

Two, the deputy replied, chuckling. Little rascals!

Do they love you?

Of course! he said with a wink. When they visit, Im at their beck and call.

And a cat at home?

How could I live without one? the deputy exclaimed. Shes the queen of the house!

Indeed! Victor raised an eyebrow.

That evening, after sending Vince home, Victor climbed the stairs to his flat. Between the second and third floor, by the radiator, the same kitten from earlier lay on a soft blanket, a bowl of food and a tidy litter box beside it.

What a tiny creature, no one seems to mind you, Victor sighed. How will you survive the winter out here, like a stray? Come with me; youll have nannies and a companion.

He scooped the kitten into his arms, pressed it close, and carried it upstairs. The kitten purred, nestling against him, and a longforgotten warmth spread through his heart.

Oh, Granddad! Poppy shrieked, spotting the kitten. I asked Grandma to take it, but she said you wouldnt let it stay.

Why wouldnt I? Of course Ill let it, Victor smiled, planting a kiss on Noras cheek. We just need to wash it and give it a name.

An hour later, the kitten, now christened Toby, sat on Poppys lap while she perched on Victors knee. She rested her cheek against his chest, beaming.

Granddad, its not cold here any more, she whispered, touching his chest. It feels warm. Let it stay like this forever, okay?

It will, Poppy. It will. As long as theres a cat in the house, how could it ever be cold?

Victor realised that the chill he had built around his life could melt in the presence of simple kindness. He understood that true strength lay not in rigid control, but in opening ones heart to the small, vulnerable things around us.

And so, with a purring cat, a laughing granddaughter, and a renewed sense of compassion, Victor finally felt his soul warm from the inside out.

The lesson was clear: a life ruled by fear and order may appear powerful, but only a heart that embraces warmth, even from the tiniest of creatures, can truly keep the soul alive.