Short Story Number Seven Hundred and Two
I’m sitting in my apartment at four in the morning and I’m talking to my cat again. I’m asking her if everything is going to be alright, if everything is going to be ok. As usual she doesn’t do anything apart from purr and stare at me. She’s probably thinking that I should just go back to bed and try to sleep. That I should just stop thinking about everything all the time. That I should just pretend to be empty for a little while.
(Source: keremmermutlu)























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