“Outside, the north wind, coming and passing, swelling and dying, lifts the frozen sand drives it a-rattle against the lidless windows and we may dear sit stroking the cat stroking the cat and smiling sleepily, prrrr.”

“...the wind has a purpose - to rattle the window panes, disturb the cat and make me miss you ...”

“God made the cat to give man the pleasure of stroking a tiger.”

“As we passed over the dark bridge her wan face fell lazily against my coat's shoulder and the formidable stroke of thirty died away with the reassuring pressure of her hand.”

“There was once a tiger-striped cat. This cat died a million deaths, and lived a million lives, and in those lives, various people owned him. None of those people he cared for. This cat was not afraid of death. One life, the cat became a stray cat, which meant it was free. And it met a white female cat. They became mates, and lived together. Time passed, the white cat passed away of old age. And the tiger- striped cat cried a million times. Eventually, the cat died again. But this time, it didn't come back to life.”

“Pretty,” said Cree. “It was very pretty.” She giggled as she stroked her green nails over her cheeks and smiled at Riley. “I suppose I let the poison go too long. I killed my parents and my younger brother and the cat. I do miss the cat.”