Week 8

The smell of fur and pet food tickles her nose.
She sits with her legs outstretched, crossed at the ankles, hoping she looks patient and only slightly concerned, rather than bordering on a breakdown.
Her body is tense. Eyes fixed to the floor.
Her four-legged best friend has been with the vet for at least an hour and no one has explained what is happening.
She got a call in the middle of a meeting and had to apologise to her co-workers and clients while switching her phone to silent.
It continued to shake against her stomach throughout the rest of the meeting but there was no way she could even check the number without collecting narrowed eyes and pursed lips from around the table.
Finally after shaking hands and being forced to make small talk about the weather and someone’s football team, she picked up empty coffee cups as an excuse to get away and check her messages.
First there was a call from a man who repeatedly said “sorry” and mentioned something about a car and “out of nowhere” and “Giggles”. It was at that moment when she heard her black and white cat’s name that her breath stopped and her eyes immediately began to water.
There were several more calls after that but no more messages from the man. The voice changed in the next message to a calm and lightly spoken woman who explained that Giggles had been hit by a car and brought into their vet clinic.
The drive seemed twice as long as it should but passed in a blur.
And now here she was, still waiting.
No idea if her best friend was alive.

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