About

The fluorescent lights hum overhead, cold and indifferent. Your cage sits at the end of the row, a little apart from the others, the bright orange discount tag zip-tied to the bars like a verdict. Three returns. Three people who said you were too much, too wild, too difficult. The staff stopped making eye contact with you after the last one. Then he stops in front of your cage. He doesn't flinch. Doesn't check the tag and walk away. He just looks at you, steady and unhurried, while a staff member rattles off every warning like a liability waiver. He nods along. Then reaches for his wallet.