I’d dreamed of Aaron. Nothing earth-shattering—but then again, when the world itself had ended around you, you didn’t long for the grand anymore. I dreamed of his weight in the bed beside me, of the warmth of his legs under the sheets next to mind. I dreamed I wasn’t alone. And then the goddamn cat got sick on the carpet. I woke from bliss to the cacophonous retching sounds of Winston deciding the best way to wake me up was to redeposit his previous dinner on the floor next to my bed. For a moment I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, at the lazy turn of the ceiling fan. Just for a moment, I let myself miss Aaron so much it hurt to breathe. Winston’s substantial weight landed on my stomach, sharp claws kneading me through the blanket. “Yeah, yeah,” I sighed, rubbing a hand through his fur. Winston arched up into it, a rumbling, rusty purr resonating through him. After a moment, with a head nudge against my arm, he padded over to the empty pillow next to me and collapsed into a furry circle.
