the story of mochi

This is Mochi. They exist.

Mochi appeared one day — not from anywhere in particular, just suddenly present, the way cats tend to be. Purple fur, green eyes, a small gold collar catching light that wasn't quite there.

They don't do much. They watch. They sit in the space between projects and ideas, between one late night and the next morning. Sometimes they knock things off desks.

Mochi doesn't belong to anyone. They just exist, somewhere in the margins — in the terminal, on a plate, in the hum of a frequency you almost remember.

528 Hz.