ABSTRACT
The night my beloved died while I was sleeping, blissfully unaware of his passing, a cat jumped on my bed to cuddle against my thigh. It woke me up. I sat up to look for the cat. There was no cat. I thought about looking under the bed for the cat, but decided against it. Because I don’t own a cat. I fell back asleep. It happened again—the same cat-sized weight but on the other side of my legs.
