Lately, I’ve been thinking about the cold. About impermanence. About hubris and dissolution. My cat is an indoor cat so rarely steps somewhere that holds a footprint. I wonder if I should make a print of her paw to keep when she’s gone. Every morning I aim to wake up before my pill app alarm goes off, to take my heart pill before it makes me sit through an advertisement. I can see puzzles of my own footprints in the snow, but they’re the boots I bought off the internet. Impressions of someone else’s project lost in the thaw.
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