"You are the Lady of the House, you are supposed to keep the untoward from coming toward."This is a certainty, I am the agent against chaos, against reckoning. What sort of a world is it where people can come and go so quickly? (Cat philosophy is a gloomy affair)
Marlowe doesn't have that vocabulary, but he races along the hallways and claws at my stockings. This morning the wee brat drew blood. Something is different, it's a provocation. I distract him with strings and fuzzy mice. Odds and bodkins.
Coraline's under the couch. I am not a consolation, the snow is melting, and all manner of disorienting smells are coming from the windows.
