“Buttercup, miserable even with Prim’s constant attention, huddles in the cube and exhales cat breath in my face.”

“My little sister, Prim, curled up on her side, cocooned in my mother’s body, their cheeks pressed together. In sleep, my mother looks younger, still worn but not so beaten-down. Prim’s face is as fresh as a raindrop, as lovely as the primrose for which she was named. My mother was very beautiful once, too. Or so they tell me.”

“Before anyone can ask anything, I empty my game bag and it becomes 18:00 - Cat Adoration. Prim just sits on the floor weeping and rocking that awful Buttercup, who interrupts his purring only for an occasional hiss at me. He gives me a particularly smug look when she ties the blue ribbon around his neck.”

“Want a sugar cube?”

“KEEP CALM and HAVE A SUGAR CUBE”

“Suddenly I am furious, that with my life on the line, they don’t even have the decency to pay attention to me. That I’m being upstaged by a dead pig.”

“Want a sugar cube?" he asks in his old seductive voice.”