Lifting him higher, I kiss his nose. He butts his forehead into my chin and curls into my palm like he’s been mine forever.
I don’t know how a cat I rescued a week ago already feels like home. But the little guy does.
I set him down and he follows me everywhere.
If I'm in the kitchen he's there.
Going to the hallway? Right behind me.
I need to watch where I step. Every time I decide to make the mistake to back up he's right there, tail straight up like he’s the prince of my domain.
Well I'm the king so I guess that makes sense.
I swap into workout clothes. Even after launch day, discipline doesn’t stop. My mind’s too wired to just sit still anyway.
The workout is quick.
Forty minutes of weights, pull-ups, and then sweating on the treadmill. Enough to burn off the static in my head. Morris watches from the doorway like I’m the most interesting thing he’s ever seen.
Such a silly boy.
Afterward, I head into the bathroom. The shower blasts steam against the glass, fogging everything into soft white haze. My muscles finally unwind. I brace both hands on the tile and just breathe.
Breathe.
When I finish, I towel off and lean closer to the mirror. My hair’s gotten a little wild the past few weeks, so I trim it up.
Steady hands, slow motions with the clippers. Just a little cleaning up of the edges before I push my hair back. Should have done this before my shower. I miss wearing it out like before. Before everything got… complicated.
Morris meows from the sink, supervising the whole thing.
“Yeah, I know,” I mutter to him, flicking a bit of hair off my cheek. “I needed it.”
He blinks like he’s agreeing.
I look at my reflection for a moment too long. The launch, the cameras, the congratulations.
Even though I'm far removed from all the action I can still hear it rattling around in my skull.
Sarah's laughter breaks through all of it.
Sarah.
She’s been such a quiet strength throughout all of this. I honestly don’t know what I would have done without her. Maybe I would have had another assistant, but our chemistry is quite spectacular.
There’s a soft chime on my phone. Heading back to the bedroom, I take it off the nightstand. It’s a text.
Sarah: want me to come over?
I smile softly, more tired than anything else. Honestly, after Gabrielle left… there was a small part of me that held out hope that she would come back. She left most of her stuff at my house anyway. But she never did. I tried reaching out to her, saying that I would ship her things to her or move them or do whatever she needed, but she straight up blocked me, at least I believe so.
However, that was put to rest when I realized she was in fact reading my texts.
After sending a question, the message would deliver and then the status would change to “read.”
There had only been a few times where I’d seen those three dots moving as she typed from her end, only for them to come to a standstill and disappear.
The anxiety I felt during those times honestly overshadowed the anxiety I feel with work.
