I had a cat I knew, very similar to the hero of this story. I think some cats are born with bipolar disorder. No sooner has he been rubbing against your legs, demanding affection, than he already looks contemptuously and makes it clear in every possible way - don’t touch me, wicked man. And yet, without a cat, a person is sad. And without a person, the cat is sad. Cats are wayward, they walk on their own. I am convinced that they carry God's will. So if your pet wanders across the keyboard, irrevocably deleting the three fresh chapters you wrote, don’t scold the cat. God wants to tell you that you can write them better.

Author's Notes: This could be a chapter from a novel I'm working on. But she would have ruined my focalization, so she separated and began to live her own life. Like the novel itself, this story was before me and will remain after me. All my credit is that I wrote it down. But something very personal got into this story, so the story is very different from the main epic. Read by Debess and Veronica A. Editor Valeria K. Cover provided by Adelaide Moser-Bubenetskaya