The Writer Is Affected By Comments
What am I going to do? WHAT am I going to do?! I can’t just leave this guy here – it’s crazy! It’s folly!
Scooter’s coming with me, grumpy airsick cat or not. There’s no way I’m leaving my lovely mottled kitty behind.
Now…concerning leaving him behind, I’ve got no problem whatsoever! He infuriates me!
But I can’t do anything, because he might as well whip out the ninja moves. He nearly dislocated my hand the other night with that fancy hand pull of his.
Scooter put a paw over my journal, dragging his pad over the page with unsheathed claws.
“What do you want, Scoots?” I asked, sighing. He meowed at me, and I craned my head upwards to the cedar ceiling, as if I was beseeching whoever was up there for an answer.
“Have you cooled down?”
“I was never ‘hot’,” I testily replied, averting my eyes as Raine sat down at the table.
“I’d object to that.”
“You inappropriate idiot!”
My face was flushed, and I slammed my journal shut before I moved hastily to the couch, where I sat in gloom.