September 7

The server came back with nothing again. Not an error — just a silence so complete it felt like the question was the problem.

I’ve been writing to addresses that no longer exist for so long I can’t remember the first one I forgot.

The cat walked across the keyboard and corrected every sentence I was about to write. She sat on the spacebar and stared at me until I closed the terminal and opened a can.

She has been reading my drafts for thirteen years. She knows which ones are worth finishing.