Prologue - The Last Ordinary Night
Evening. Alone. Once again, I drag my shadow along the empty halls, mulling over thoughts too short-lived to outlast the corridor.
At last, my room. With a flick of the wrist, the door swings open. The familiar drift of dust balls across the mahogany wood floor greets me like an old, unbothered houseguest.
I really should sweep every once and a while... Why do I always forget?
The bed's a mess too. Pillows stacked in a cross-shape, duvets half-surrendered to the floor. When did I last change the sheets? I make a mental note to fix it. I'll be ignoring that mental note in a couple of seconds. The wardrobe, then. Let's see what today holds.
Several black sweatshirts dresses. All made by the same brand. One-hundred percent cotton. And washed recently - of course, unlike anything else in this room. I pick one at random, change into it along with soft stockings and worn cat slippers. For some reason, the outside world has grabbed my attention. Heavy rain. The sound of roaring thunder rumbles through the walls. I prefer quiet nights, but I cannot deny that it is somewhat peaceful... Too peaceful.
Hmm... Where's my little fur ball?
"Sable? Come here!"
...
No answer.
Where's that damn cat... I check my pockets out of habit. A hair band, my phone, a lighter, the house-key, a pocket knife and oh! A bag of cat treats! I shake it hard.
"Sable! Sable! Where are you? Don't you want some treats?"
Something shifts in my chest. My legs begin to move before I decide they should. My wrists ache with each desperate rattle. A cold sweat trails down my temples and spine. My heart throws itself against my ribs - those thin, stubborn things - as if they're the only thing standing between me and something I don't want to name.
"Sable! Sable! Sable!"
For every door I slam...
Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Eleven. Empty. Rooms.
I can't believe it. He's not even by the old cardboard box that I've refused to throw out. Nor by any of the corners he haunts like a small, opinionated ghost.
Has he gone outside?
I pull my raincoat off the rack. Grab the umbrella. Stand at the open door and...
Stop.
Outside. Twenty-one days since I've last been outside.
The front door frames the dark and the rain like a painting I don't know if I'm allowed to step into. My feet have forgotten the world beyond this threshold or perhaps they remember it all too well. Sable is out there. Somewhere in the dark and wet. And I am here, in the dry and the quiet.
What kind of person can't step outside for their own cat?
...
This isn't the first time Sable's disappeared before. He's always shown up after a couple of days. The last time I saw him was yesterday, curled up in his bed by the fireplace. He disappears. That's what he does. He always comes back. The rain is cold and the world out there is very large and my bed is right there and he always comes back and..
He always comes back.
I'll wait.
...
Fuck it.
Sown stumbles into the rain and lets it take her. No hood, no umbrella. The door thudding shut behind her like an afterthought. Rain soaks through the black cotton, clinging to skin and fabric, but the chill is only surface-deep. Beneath it is a hollow, urgent ache where Sable's warmth should be. Thunder rolls overhead. She runs. She doesn't look back.
