Cleo
The week I got her, the house felt like it was grieving too.
Air too still. Voices low, like everyone was afraid to say the wrong name.
It was my birthday.
My step-grandpa had just passed.
No candles that year. No party. Just quiet.
That thick kind of quiet that hums against your chest like it’s trying to swallow the ache whole.
And then she arrived.
Two w…
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