Uncle Joe was known for his bad temper. Neighbors avoided his house, fearing his gloom was infectious. Joe didn't mind; he preferred the silence to their judging eyes. Not that he minded. He did not enjoy seeing the folk's judging faces as well, so he supposed the feeling was mutual. He had never had a wife, friends, nor children. His parents were long since dead. It should have hurt him, drowned him in despair. But uncle Joe was used to loneliness, even favored the lingering feeling of emptiness in his chest that stayed as if it was a stubborn mule. This morning was unlike any other. Following the routine, he grudgingly woke up to the alarm's buzz, took a pricking, ice-cold shower, and got in his same, dull gray clothing he wore every single day. “Why bother dressing up for nobody?” he muttered, exhaling a plume of cigarette smoke at his reflection. Wrinkles were his only companions. There were some on his forehead, under his eyes and yet there were no crinkles on the cornerns of his eyes, nor did he have prominent smile lines, as if happiness itself has stripped itself away from him. His deep blue eyes, which were supposed to look like a beautiful ocean, instead looked cold as an iceberg, unnerving to the gaze. People might have wondered why he was like this, why it was as if he had a constant rain cloud over his head. The truth is, he was not like this all the time. Decades ago, Suzanne had been his light. But cancer took her when they were just high school sweethearts, leaving him in a world that had stayed dark ever since. He sniffed as he remembered her dear face and opened a beer can, taking a huge swig. He sighed. Today was Sunday, so no work was expected from him. Good, he thought. Now I might as well have time to watch sweet ol' soccer. Like usual, he prepared himself a plain sandwich while taking bitter swigs of beer and finally sat down on the plush sofa with a grunt. Apart from wrinkles, sofa was the one thing that has always welcomed him with a soft embrace. Just as he settled in to find a TV program, a loud thud, scratching, and whiny meows interrupted him. He groaned in annoyance, "I swear if som'body pranking me with that cat I ain't gonna control my so-called temper this time!" He set down his beer can and stood up, lazily stepping outside to check for the noise. He squinted at the bright sunlight, and walked a circle around the house trying to find the source. When he reached the rain gutter, the noise got louder. He tutted, "You stupid cat! How did you even get in there?" He grabbed gloves and a flashlight from the garage. Inside the open gutter, a small, terrified figure meowed up at him. He sighed and shook his head, speaking softly, "It's okay, lil' one. I'm gettin' ya out." He gently got the kitten in his hands, careful so that the kitten would not scratch him. When he looked down in the kitten in his arms, a small tingling feeling of hope evolved in his chest, which was dwindled down by the feeling of doubt. What if the same will happen to this kitten as it did to Suzanne? "I'm goin' to wash ya now," he muttered, gently scrubbing the grime away until the kitten was warm and comfy. As he was filling a bowl with milk, he grunted as he saw the brightness in the kitten's eyes as it meowed, "Don't get used to it, buddy. I'm still goin' to sumbit ya to the animal shelter, other way or not." But as the kitten started drinking from the bowl, now his doubt changed into the one whether if he actually had to get rid of the kitten. He snapped out of it. Remember, happiness always got out of your life as soon as you grasped it. Why would this time be any different? And yet, he wanted it to be different. He was too tired to live a life filled with anger and sadness. He needed a break from this. He muttered, "I have to think." He got the can he left on the table and turned on the soccer program again, thoughts about the kitten forming a tangled mess in his poor old head. He was so engrossed in his own mind, that he did not even notice that the kitten jumped and settled in his lap, meowing as if sensing the war that his thoughts brought. He chuckled and stroked the kitten's head, "You dear thing..." The kitten closed its eyes and purred loudly, making Joe laugh, "You look just like Suzanne, don't you?" A detail he noticed just at that moment. Suzanne had bright red hair and green eyes which seemed to sparkle anytime she was excited. Her eyes remained the same even if she was slowly suffocating inside, even if her hair has slowly lost its color. And the kitten, it seemed, had pretty similar features. A smile crept up his face, "Oh, dear Suzanne. I knew you would come back." Another meow from the kitten brought pure delight to his heart, and the gray walls of the house seemed brighter than they were, as if the house itself was happy . And he knew, that he would let the kitten stay. His happiness was finally back, and this moment made him understand -- life is not over.