Occasionally she’ll sit on my desk, face pressed to the glass, chattering marching orders to the bird army assembled on the power lines hanging just outside the window, but other than that she doesn’t really do anything. She brings me absolutely zero joy. Sometimes I’ll wake up in the middle of the night and feel her hot body, nestled close, but never ever touching. If I move even an inch, she’ll jump up and move away mumbling some shit like, “It was cold in here and I was just stealing your heat,” because it would obviously kill her to admit she feels even the smallest bit of gratitude or
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