Jordan:Thanks. I found her as a kitten under some clematises. She’s missing one of her back legs… from a dog attack, I think.
Me:Aww. Poor thing.
Jordan:Believe me, it hasn’t slowed her down.
Me:LOL, that’s good.
I notice Ruth’s meal and realize I need to get it upstairs before it gets cold.
Me:Got to go. Nice chatting, though. Hope your girl stays safe!
Jordan:Yeah, man. You too.
Our conversation plays like a broken record all the way back to the elevator, and I catch myself smiling. Finally, someone to talk to.
I enter Ruth’s room with a smile. “Look what I got—Oh.”
Ruth is asleep.
I can’t help it. I laugh silently.
Three more hours, Miles.Three more hours until I can go home, strip out of my clothes, and watch another episode ofNailed it!,my current binge obsession.
Maybe I can talk to Jordan too, if he’s awake.
Oh, what an exciting life I lead. My most thrilling adventure is talking to some random guy on the internet.
Yay me.
3
JORDAN
The following day, I wake to a cold nose pressed against my cheek. Clematis purrs beside me, the gentle motorboat sound tickling my ears. Small white paws knead biscuits into the pillow, dangerously close to my face.
I groan and pull away.It can’t be morning already, can it?
Ignoring her, I roll to my back and drape an arm over my eyes, unwilling to get up yet. Clematis head butts my shoulder, meowing loudly. When I don’t respond, she does it again, then stands on my chest.
Sighing, I give in and scratch her ears. If I don’t, she’ll knead biscuits on my bare chest, and trust me, that is not a fun way to wake up.
My limbs are heavy. Not from sleep or the yard work yesterday. No. They’re heavy with something else. Something that won’t heal.
The bitter darkness clings to me like a wet blanket. Smothering. Suffocating. Draining.
Not threatening to—itis. Stealing every last drop of joy.
Burrowing my nose into the crook of my cat’s neck, I draw in her familiar scent. As expected, she wiggles away and jumps off the bed, tail flicking.
When I don’t immediately sit up, she meows again, long and loud.
“Yeah, yeah. I know.”
Honestly, I can’t hate my cat for waking me up. If it weren’t for her, I’d stay in bed until it was time to go to work. She gives me a reason to get up.
More than that, she gives me a reason tolive.To keep waking up every morning.
Scrubbing a hand along my jaw, I suck in a long breath. I hate this feeling. The weight of it. I wish I could peel it away and toss it in the trash. But depression doesn’t work like that.
