I honestly can’t believe it. Two days ago, we thought for sure she was a goner, but Cassie has made a miraculous recovery. She’s eating on her own again, walking, purring and generally light years ahead of where she was on Friday night, in which we were debating driving to Windsor to end her suffering.

I’m not a particularly mystical person, but 2022 was such a motherfucker, I felt like it was trying to commit one last grisly murder before the end, but in swept 2023 on cardinal wings and saved the day.

Hope. What a weird thing to feel.

We’re not out of the woods yet, and the universe loves to pull that rug, but maybe, just maybe, it isn’t all one pain after the other.

Target: 1100 words
Written: 201 words, novella: The Mungk