My mind is all abuzz with the things I cannot say. These little faltering attempts - what do they signify?
Jiji lost her kittens. Four little bodies, fascinating and awful. It was too soon. Little kitten fetuses, with tiny claws. Two of them had black noses already, like their mama.
The hundred other things weighing on my mind refuse to be typed up yet. There's just poor Jiji, and . . .
I feel like a moth beating my wings against a window, trying to escape. I feel like I've been poisoned.