There was a cat on my hip. I tried to keep my eyes closed. She would start to purr and pester for breakfast if I did anything else. She noticed the breathing change and moved to slink up the side of the bed toward my pillow, a whispered thunder from her throat as she approached.

Get a cat. They don’t need constant company and you can come and go as you please.

I rolled over to the other side, eyes still closed, that empty ache in my stomach making it impossible to want anything other than more sleep. She crept around the pillow, stepping on hair and causing little shards of pain in my scalp. I refused to rise before the sun.

I hid my face in the pillow, lifting the quilt over my head. I didn’t want to face the world, not with the ache, not with the hallow feeling that still clung to me. She climbed up my shoulder and began to knead against the quilt.

A cat will never require your attention or have to go for a walk. It will be perfect for your knee.

I gave up. I lowered the blankets and turned under her, lifting a hand so I could rub my thumb under her chin. It wouldn’t be enough to calm her so I could sleep again, but the meowing wouldn’t start. She stretched into the attention, turning her head to rub along my hand before flopping to her side as her front claws wrapped around my wrist and her back claws came up to shred my hand. I pulled in back before she could take off too much skin.

Don’t get her declawed. It’s like cutting off your finger to the first knuckle.

I licked the blood from where she broke the skin as her pleading started. Mews mixed with the ever increasing purr. I glared at her, but those huge eyes looked back with anticipation. “Five more minutes?” I begged in a voice still raw from the tears.

She climbed closer, stepping on my breasts and watching me carefully. Was she observing her prey or being sweet? I never could tell. I lifted her carefully, moving her to the center of the bed and threw the covers off of myself in one motion. I turned to sit on the side of the bed as she climbed over the mess of bedding and pressed her head against my elbow. The clock mocked me. Three hours after the last time I had looked at it, but at least I would get to work on time, or 4 hours early in this case.

I slipped into the robe on the floor, following with the slippers and began to move through the empty house, hearing the empty footfalls as I left the empty bed without looking to the other side. It was still made, still cold. How much longer did it have to stay that way?

The kitchen was harsh. No coffee brewing, no note on the fridge, your shoes weren’t sitting at the door. There was no indication of you, other than the memories of times shared. I didn’t need those today. I pushed them from my mind as I slowly shuffled to the food dish, my furry companion lacing in and out of my legs as I focused on not tripping.

The sound of her kibble in the dish made me flinch. Too much noise, not enough sleep. I moved to one of the stools in the kitchen, one hand coming up to rub at the sleep in my eyes. How long had it been? How much longer would it be? I pulled my phone from the charger on the counter and slid a finger over the screen to see nothing. Had I really expected something?

The soft crunch behind me told me it was safe to go back to bed. I didn’t. It was cat free, but memories clung to the sheets, to the walls, to the pillows, to the nothingness that it was now. It wasn’t safe. Nothing was.

Shower, dry tears, dry body, dress, brush teeth, comb hair, don’t cry, tie shoes, pet cat, retie shoes, pull yourself together, get coat, find keys, pet cat, get a band-aid, start car, drive to work, don’t cry. Was it routine already? Was this how everyday would feel? Something had to change.