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Go beyond that, past

still

and

quiet

To

stone

and

silence

and there are lives, inside.

I have always been cat

but not always this

Sizecolorshapesex.

Once I was smaller, like a cousin,

and died, freezing, with a girl

in our bed, held tightly together for warmth,

though we had only cold left to give

bone pressed to bone.

I remember that girl, her mouth sounds,

different from this girl’s.

But in all my lives,

humans cry the same.

She leaves, arm curled to her,

metal / salt / sad / smell stays behind.

The door closes, but it is a light thing.

And I am dark and heavy.

Chapter 51

Felicity

There’s a roar above me, a party I was invited to and haven’t quite been able to attend. A swell of laughter spins, loops, goes different directions until it’s not laughter anymore, but the sound of wind, a breeze that plays with my nightgown as I stand on the steps of the Montors’ house, my hand in Annabelle’s, as she stares stupidly at the empty driveway.

“Where’s your car?” I ask, scratching the back of one leg with the other foot. We’d roasted marshmallows earlier in the backyard, and the last of the mosquitoes had some bites off me while I devoured my own snack.

Annabelle doesn’t answer, only jangles her keys in one hand, eyes roaming up and down the street. It’s late. Dark. No one is out. The only light is a rectangle on the lawn, thrown from Tress’s room. I walk out into it, look up. Tress stands there, staring down, still holding the teddy bear.