Leaving the apartment on my way to work this morning, I saw a large red plastic bag (the kind wet market vegetable sellers give you) on the 3rd floor common stair.
Fuck, please don't tell me it's an abandoned newborn baby. Yah lah, I'm quite drama.
I put my workbag down and untied the knots, my mind with more 'fucks' than a 5-cent prostitute, who is the last woman on earth.
Looking inside, I found a bundle of white and black fur. A kitten, and the same one I had seen wandering around the neighbourhood before.
Whoever put it in the bag must've also cut off all its whiskers (what is with these idiots and cutting off whiskers?!). These sick people should be tortured the same way they treat animals.
Despite its ordeal, the kitten looked fine and healthy. Still terribly affectionate as well, so I carried it to the void deck (with plenty of comfort cuddles & chin scratches) and put it down, where it ran off.