I’m stuck at home watching the cat animate the water bowl. He nudges it, then pounces. Doing so he ducks his head and lowers his eyes, and attempts to bring them up fast enough to see movement. He’ll never see the bowl waddle on its own. He will never make it live. If he’s lucky, if he’s quick enough, maybe he will catch the last ripple. But he’s never quick enough, he never sees the dish get nudged, never sees the bowl rock on its own. He persists. I watch. The logic of boredom is somewhat skewed.

I call my friend to cry. My voice is convincingly dramatic. I am, after all, sick at home. ‘I am lonely. I am alone’, I broadcast. There is no force to convince me otherwise. My cat, away from his water dish, looks up and pounces on a blank spot on the floor. I yell at my friend and hang up. I look up from the phone fast enough to see movement.

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