It was dark outside. Darker then what she was used to. Colder than the coldest night of a past so vivid in memory, yet too dull to fully remember. Close enough to grasp, but still too far away to actually hold onto. All there is are fleeting thoughts, hazy ideas of what used to be so long ago. Voices in the distance, and singular pictures of places she should probably know.
But there is still barely anything left. She remembers and forgets at the same time, going trough her days on autonomy. She dies a little every day, while still staying alive enough to function in society.
She has an apartment, but it is rarely ever clean. There is a car parked in the garage, but her license is forgotten somewhere in a drawer, so she takes the train. There is a cat on her bed, but there is nothing wrong with it.
That grey little cat, is the only constant in her life, the only thing that usually goes right. Except of course the few times it threw up on the carpet. She often thought of giving it away. If one is barely able to take care of themselves, how could they possibly care for another living being.
But there were also other thoughts about the cat, it usually is the only thing forcing her out of bed in the morning, feeding time seems to be rather important to the feline. It saved her employed quite a few times. She knows how bad of an idea it is to rely on her cat this much, after all it wasn't the youngest anymore. But she was sure that it would continue to live at least a few more years.
That was until the Vet told her one horrific word. Cancer. Her world was becoming blurry at the edges, the doctor saying something of it already being too far spread, something about the cat only having a mere few months left to live.
It was starting all over again. Just like then, when everything started to fall apart. Just like then, a single word, a single disease. There to ruin her life.
She is spiraling. And then comes back to herself on her couch, with a sick gray cat on her lap. It's purring, a calming presence, an indicator that it is still alive, still there. She is not alone, not yet, not again.
Until in a few months she is. And then this little cat will just be another distant sound in the endless unremembering void of her mind. Maybe she should join it when it leaves, at least then she wouldn't have to find her way to Heaven alone. Would she even go to Heaven? Or would Hell be her destination, maybe revival, another life, another chance, or something else entirely.
Or she could continue to live. But where is the fun in that. If the world were filled with color, just like back then, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. But nowadays, all she sees is grey. Maybe the cat on her lap is brown or orange, she certainly wouldn't know.
Sometimes she wishes to go back in time, to warn her brother of the monster ravaging his body. To give the doctors a chance, an even fighting ground. To higher their chance of winning a losing battle. After all, the signs were always there, but her brothers own fear of doctors kept him from getting help on time. If he had just gotten help earlier, maybe then he'd still be here.
It was his cat, that's now sitting on her lap. All alone after he left, their father grieving too much to take care of it. Their mother cut out of their lives when they were little. So she took it, despite her own world falling apart as well.
In hindsight, one could see that the cat was very much like it's owner. When she was at her lowest point, it was there, keeping her from directly joining her brother. The demands for attention of a then kitten were a little too large to ignore at times. It often reminded her to keep living, if not for herself then for the one thing her brother left behind.
She was at a loss. What to do, when the one good thing vanishes in such a similair way, as the one so long gone. A few months can pass in the blink of an eye, what will she do when the time comes? Where will she go? How will she continue her life?
Maybe she should give this little gray cat a few nice last months, but for that she'd need extra money. Her cleaning job is barely paying for food and rent. But the shelter down the street has been looking for someone for a few years already. Maybe they still do.
And suddenly, she holds a new uniform in hand. It feels like time has barely passed. From one moment to the other, she now cleans for animals, rather than humans. Nothing she isn't used to, and the ones she's working for are much nicer too.
For the first time in years, she found joy in working again. When the animals are being adopted, or the ones still there are being given chances for better lives. They are, in some way just like her. Lost, but found at the right time. It feels like she can somewhat repay that little gray cat for its kindness.
Maybe that is why she barely finds herself crying when standing in front of the fish shaped gravestone. A single tulip in front of it, the little thing always tried to eat the ones by the window.
It is almost time to go, and she looks back one last time. the warmth of the sun giving her the strength to utter the name of the most important friend she ever had for a final time.
June
She should really call her father, it has been too long since they last spoke to one another.
