Marta and The Blue Tiger had already been living together for a year. It was an absolutely comfortable and harmonious relationship. The Blue Tiger felt absolutely independent – a  must-have condition of existence in his mind. And Marta was at ease all the year and that allowed her to breathe. On the very first day Marta moved in, Tiger pinned a silver chain to her wing (which, as we remember, she has instead of her left arm), the other end of which was attached to his tail. Sometimes, when he was in a state of pensiveness, distinctly uncontent, his tail, in a feline manner, would nervously flick from side to side and drag Marta along with it. But this usually did not last long, barely long enough for Marta to come back from her imaginary world, just to pet behind The Blue Tiger’s ear, and it was a nonchalant, quite sleepy movement.

On Tuesday, at about two in the morning, Marta was asleep stretched out on the sofa, and The Blue Tiger was reading Woody Allen, monotonously stroking her toes. When he finished reading one of the letters, he grabbed Marta off the sofa and placed her beside him. Marta grudgingly declared that she had no intention of waking up, but The Blue Tiger explained the importance of his reasons and read the letter to Marta out loud. Having finished listening, Marta opened her eyes and asked for a few minutes to reflect.

“Are you saying that the cynicism of the generation has reached its limit, and thus deprived the ability to feel another person?” Still dwelling on her thought, Marta asked an annotative question.

“Exactly. It’s obvious. Look, the level of intimacy with a person is determined by how often his name is mentioned in the newsfeed. The definition of lying derives from the number of reposts. And the volume of the scream for psychological help corresponds to the number of likes. No one remembers any longer how important it is to read out loud.”

“Absolutely true. But then don’t be so categorically cynical either; the invention of such insensitive systems has also brought its benefits. Of course, such inventors that can still think are few, but they are there. Take FaceTime, for example!  You remember my friend from Paris, don’t you?! We haven’t seen each other for years, we’ve already passed the stage of ‘once a year we talk and still have something to talk about’, it’s already awkward to even talk, to the point at which we forgot about each other, yet seeing a familiar face, distorted by the screen, you just feel a bust of energy. Of course, it’s not the same when you can touch the person, but still. It’s helpful for maintaining our dependency on human emotions.”

The Blue Tiger took off his pince-nez and looked more closely at still sleepy but already quite belligerent Marta.

“And what about your scientific work about the possibility of a pure pleasure of solitude?” he asked a bit skeptically.

“I’ve come to the conclusion that it takes up a lot of space and has considerable weight. And if this buzz is not exchanged, it goes stale and gets in the way of development. It is an important accumulative process.”

“What kind of tests did you use when you developed this theory?” 

“The first stage proved that I could wholeheartedly enjoy the famous single-player game when I reached a vital urgent goal without knowing the way, but following the indicated path.” 

“It’s a good game.” TheBlue Tiger perked up and nestled at Marta’s feet. “What style did you choose playing it?”

“The last time I was on the path of warmth. I walked only those sidewalks, that were at least partially lit by the sun, which made me feel warm, as it turned out that my summer dress had become irrelevant to summer today. And at each traffic light, when I stopped, I could hear my heartbeat pounding out the inner timbre of this city. Such a loud and thunder-like drumbeat inside. That, of course, is what made me do the ritual dance of the highest of sensations, which is love.” 

“Interesting, indeed” Tiger exhaled, “and then?” 

“I thought that would be enough to dissolve, but then I realized that I couldn’t keep myself from starting a conversation with the neighbor’s dog or playing hide-and-seek with the young, ambitious cat in the yard.”

“Sorry for interrupting, but have you used any auxiliary substances for those contemplations?”

“No. I keep hold to this ritual, and only with you I’m still using it and only on February 1st.”

“Well…” The Blue Tiger was processing Marta’s response and asked:

“So playing with the cat was your reason for thinking that the consequence of pleasure was the telepathic contact?”

“Not exactly. The real reason was yet another bouquet of flowers that I give to our barista every morning. Right with the first sip, I clearly realized that I don’t have enough words or gifts to express my gratitude for the light she radiates. One look at her makes me want to tear off a piece of myself and give it to her. Share my blood. And it’s an even, mutual exchange. It’s interdependence. And that immediately, to call Daria and tell her, in minute and colorful details, how sincerely the coffee girl rejoices in my gift.”

“Darling, you are making great progress in your work. I think you got a fever.”

The tiger got closer to Marta and with his huge paw around her pressed his lips to her hot forehead.

“And let the number of these people be limited to the list of names added to the photo. But it is so vital, on a daily basis, to feel this dependence on people. Such a tremendous need and gratitude for the people closest to us,” Marta kept reporting, “you and me, for instance. In our relationship, unlike in common human relationships, you can’t justify everything with a sexual connection, don’t you agree? It would be ridiculous, you’re a Tiger after all. But nevertheless, with no artistry, absolutely no money, and even your own car, you manage to drive me around the city at night so skillfully – I would be completely desiccated. Without your chain on my wing, all I would do is fall. And I can’t imagine how I would have lived without your admiration of my ballet lessons.” 

“Marta, do you realize that you’ve come to that very publicly forbidden phrase?”  He placed his paw on her face and turned it toward him.

“Yes. I’m ready.” Marta took a deep breath, and straightened her back, slowly looking straight in The Blue Tiger’s eyes.“I love you, The Blue Tiger.” And then having lost interest, she yawned and continued, “But now, excuse me, Mr. Allen was wonderful, but I must get back to my sleep which you interrupted just as I was eating a lemon cake with a silver spoon.”