The thought of some piece of shit in their house. In their space. It makes me want to pop a bullet between eyes. Jane’s cats. 4 out of 6 cats are at the Cobalt Estate. Audrey is watching them, thank the fucking Lord. But there are still two left in the other townhouse. The squirrelly little ones that dart every place—they were too hyper to corral in a cat carrier, so I told Audrey I’d take care of them while I’m here. She wanted me to spit on her hand to promise. What the hell—I did it.
