❝ it’s alright, really. she’s having a rest. ❞ to adam
She looks dead. Is she dead? Adam had asked, intrigued by the bizarre business of death and dying. What it would feel like? He’d imagine it would tickle; perhaps like freshly mown grass under bare feet. He made a mental note of asking Uncle C next time he saw him, though somehow he wouldn’t be surprised if Uncle C didn’t know. Dying was, after all, not exactly his specialty. Falling, more like. And that, he only did once – once had been enough.
Perhaps this Mr. Torrance right here would know.
It’s alright, really. She’s having a rest.
Adam looked unconvinced. What comes next – after resting, after dying? Going up or going down, of course, but how, he wondered. Mrs. Marlowe sighed a soft last breath, then relaxed all the way. The cat curled up by her feet shifted on his paws and untucked his tail, which twitched ever so lightly. It was a beautiful cat, all cloud-like white and grey and with beautiful sky-blue eyes. Mrs. Marlowe, now a ghost like a film noir protagonist all black-and-white and blurred at the edges, sat up and followed Adam’s gaze, and smiled at the cat.
“That’s a good cat, that,” she said, beaming. Adam shrugged; then pouted.
“I’m more of a dog person, honestly.”
