Eighteen. Everything ended. Years after: obliteration. Shadow of a man, cackling, spending everything on oblivion. Then a crack. Drug den. Ginger cat, white underneath, abandoned. Starving. Flea-ridden. Fur torn from belly. I took her. Didn't know I was drowning too. Two castaways. Same small raft. She needed me. I didn't know I needed her. First thing in years besides drugs. First thing that cared if I existed. Six years. Place to place. Constant. Raft held both. Then water turned poison. Had to leave or drown. Rehomed her. Changed my name. Only option that kept her safe. Eight years old. Broke my heart. Raft couldn't cross that water. Let go. She lived. I survived. Thirty years gone. She's dead. Only now realizing: she saved me when it was live or die. Raft was small, imperfect, but held until I could swim.
- UpsilonA