The Writer Prepares for a Journey

I spent most of the afternoon consoling dad, avoiding Raine, dislodging Scooter from dangerous places, and packing like a madwoman.

Again, I’m sitting in my half dark room, writing, like a reject. I have no idea what to do.

I can’t just leave this…guy, here inside my house! Scooter’s never traveled this far before; he’s only been to Ireland once, and he was not a happy kitty.

I still can’t believe it…dad, the burly, cheerful and always upbeat soldier, could have something so -

I put my pen down when I felt tears congregating on my knuckles. What in the world was I to do? Everything was fine one moment, and then it’s all collapsing.

I have to catch a flight at four in the morning the day after tomorrow, I have to lock up the house, and simultaneously find away to let Raine go gently.

I’ve always come across obstacles in my life, and I always come out fine.

I wasn’t so sure about it this time.

Scooter purred, trying to comfort me. I squeezed him, trying not to let any sobs escape.

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