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[ if it's a longer time before she replies, it's only because she's reading it more than once — letting herself absorb his words, letting the story wash over her, and then starting over from the beginning so that she can glean new details that she might not have picked up previously. ]

This is lovely, Brandon. Evocative, and poignant.

Is it about your own world, in part?

[ it feels personal enough to her, given what context she holds, that she would be surprised to learn if the opposite were true. ]

Parts of it.

[ It’s not easy to write these things, to let them breathe in the open air instead of swallowing them down with the rest of his ghosts. But he tries. He showed her, in the end. ]

He liked cats. My kid.

[ There’s a lot left unspoken there. Pain, and grief, and a quiet sort of love. ]

We tried to catch him one. A pet, not food.

There's a cat here, you know. I'm not certain if you've met her yet.

I brought her home with me back when I was still living at the townhouse. She's quite the independent hunter, but I think she's been missing some... more human company.

[ In other words, someone actually in possession of their own natural body heat and a pulse. ] I never had the heart to name her. She's always struck me as the type of cat who already knows its true name. What need would she have for me to give her one?

I haven't. I'd like to if that's okay.

[ He likes animals. Or he did once, before the world narrowed things down. ]

Maybe you can ask her. If there's a spell for that or something.

Of course. She can be very particular in her affections, but I believe such things are in a cat's nature.

That hadn't occurred to me. Perhaps Grayson would know of one.