I thought I was going to burst.

I felt oddly placid, yet at the same time, disbelieving.

I didn’t want to accept the fact that Papa was gone. I didn’t want to relive what I went through when Mama died.

It was horrible.

It was memorable.

I ground my teeth until they hurt, thinking about the weeks after Mama’s death.

What was I going to do now? I was drifting in an ocean of a world, with no handholds whatsoever.

My family was gone.

I was alone.

Scooter nudged at my hand, making me stop my morbid thoughts. He tilted his head at me, trying to remind me that my solitude did not go on unshared.

“That’s right…thanks, Scoots.”

My cat gave a small, purring sound, and burrowed into my lap, turning on his back and exposing his white belly.

I stroked him softly, thinking and dreading the undertaker’s call.

My thoughts circled around the funeral.

Think…what would Papa like?

“Hey there…”

I looked upwards, catching sight of the person in the doorway.