Barnard, The Cat
This place was the industrial zone, but to Barnard, the cat, it was a kingdom of pine-slat. While people go about their daily work, he sits perfectly still, watching and defending his kingdom in a way well known to him.
Every morning at 8:00AM, the metal stairs would groan under the weight of Branard as he walked majestically, coming down the garage to do his daily work of managing logistics. He wasn't just occupying a space, he felt like he was in the arms of the industry.
One morning, he had just walked down the stairs when he heard the ground throbbing. He didn't panic, he walked closer to the path the truck driver was driving past, his pale blue eyes gazed at the distant gate, and wondered why the driver looked at him like one stray cat finding shelter in the industry.
Today, however, the air felt different. A single weathered leaf had dropped a few inches from his paws, he stared at the twig, he wasn't looking at the leaf. He didn't like how he was treated, but he was going to give them reasons why his presence mattered there.