I’m not superstitious. I don’t believe in spirits or an afterlife or gods.
But when I walked out to the little tool cabinet- at the foot of which you used to sleep, the little spot where you would lie was warm in the shape of your body.
It struck me as odd- I bent down to touch the floor and it felt evenly temperatured, yet when I stood back on the spot, I could almost trace the outline of your body with my feet.
I miss you, Moemoe. If that was you, thanks for coming into the house again. It’s cold outside. I think about you a lot and I’m sorry I can’t pet you anymore, my brother-kitty.