The Best of Everything - Rona Jaffe
Sometimes her cat would slip up to her and rub his furry head against her ankle, and, looking down at him, she would feel an immense, overwhelming affection for him. My little cat. Pencil-line ribs to move with breathing as he slept, signs of life to remind her that there were other worlds inside of other people's skulls, even inside a cat's little skull. It made her feel less alone, less stifled, less afraid of something she could not really name.
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