Day after day, the same ritual. Warm compress. Gentle wipe. A single, perfect tear reappearing by noon.
The duct stayed clogged. The cat stayed dry-eyed, except for that one steady leak. And I stayed there, cloth in hand, wiping away a sorrow that wasn’t even hers. cat clogged tear duct
Sometimes I think she’s fine. Sometimes I think her body just found a small, harmless way to look like it remembers every loss I’ve ever told her about. Day after day, the same ritual