my cat, my car–

–fall out of a book I never finished reading. The pictures show a life I no longer own, someone else’s memories of silver metal and steering wheel, white fur, fat and round as a pin cushion, and you. You’re not actually in the photograph. But see? There. And there. And there. And see, there. I see you there.

One response to “my cat, my car–

  1. ::sigh::

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