In which I am like my cat

wait wait wait wait wait wait wait
for the time it takes a heart to mend a break
how many moons are reflected in the lake
can you wait forever if time is all it takes

Ladybird, before she left, loved her feathertoy. Her every thought was about that little fluffball on a string. I would pick her up, and her head would immediately whip around to where the feathertoy was stored, shoulder-height to me. She would beg and plead every time I was home to make it move around, the way she liked.

I went out looking for her one night when she was gone, and I brought the feathertoy with me. I was posting flyers, so I put it in my back pocket, and it must have fallen out. Ladybird was going to be devastated, I could tell.

Then she came back, and she only has a vague recollection of the feathertoy, but her head still whips around to where it used to hang when I say "feathertoy" or pick her up. She gets a dim look in her eyes and grudgingly turns her attention back to me when she realizes that place to which she is mysteriously drawn is strangely empty.

I got her another feathertoy, but I haven't told her yet. It's not the same kind, but it's very nice, and has real feathers (or fake feathers, but they look like feathers, and not a chewed up bit of fluff).

I am the same way. I waited 2 weeks for an email that never came, and my eyes still flick down to the folder it would be filtered to every time I log in. It's gotten to the point where I don't remember right away why I'm doing it, I just have a vague sense of disappointment that the folder is empty.

• Beep Beep Song, Simone White