“Ok, she was close to being right. I did have a thing about cats. And I didn’t particularly have a good reason for feeling that way. It was as if it was, innate. Tara on the other hand had this freakish affinity towards them, or should I say, they towards her. It was like she had the fresh scent of salmon that only cats could smell. It was endearing, and a little creepy.”

“In the past, I had particularly loved her smell. She always smelled freshed, freshly washed or of freshed laundry or fresh sweat or freshly loved”

“No, of course she didn't say it. But there is no other reason she should have called, except to pave the way for her brother. she had nothing whatsoever to talk about. Just sat there like a stick, sipping tea.""I didn't know sticks could sip tea.”

“What cat? Oh! MY CAT. The cat… that is mine. Oh, she’s... ” I had said it was a she, right? “She’s fine. All meowing and purring and other cat things.”

“She looked at me and the expression on her face was an expression of dislike, one I hadn't seen before but knew right away. Later I would see it turned toward other people. But the first time was looking at me and was because she believed she'd done all she could that was correct and the best thing, and it had only gotten her stuck with me. And I couldn't do anything that mattered. Though if I could I would've had my father be there, or Warren Miller, or somebody who had the right words that would take the place of hers, anybody she could speak to without just hearing her own voice in a room and having to go about the trouble of pretending she did not feel absolutely alone.”

“Had her conduct been more friendly toward me, I would have felt sorry for her. She was a pretty little thing.”