KNOX
After the kitten is fed, Isadora puts it to sleep right on her lap.
I watch her stroke its malnourished little body until it's purring. There's a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips and the sight of it calms me. After the shitty day we had, it's a damn relief.
"What should we name it?"
My brows shoot up. "Name it? You're forgetting that we have to re-home this little guy?"
"I know, but that doesn't mean it can't have a name," she claims, looking up.
I run a hand down my face and feel a sting. I look down at it and remember that I have to clean this mess up. Rising, I tell her, "I'll be back, alright? I just need to wash this off."
I turn on the cold water and carefully scrub all the dried blood off with soap. Flashes of the incident cross my mind and make my stoma
