“I’m going to go,” she says, once she’s collected all her supplies. When she turns, she barely makes eye contact. I’m so used to her expressive face watching my every move, that the sudden absence of her attention feels like a tether that’s been cut. A light that’s been snuffed out. She forces a tight smile, her gaze stuck somewhere around my neck. “I’m sure I’ll see you in a day or two.” She doesn’t wait for a response. She shuffles past me to the entrance of the closet, then pauses for a moment, her head turned halfway. “I’m glad your cat is okay,” she whispers. She leaves without another
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