when i poured the hot water for coffee an insect came out of the spout and ran like hell down the crack by the fridge. i hear the tapping of the twins' feet overhead. we'll have to find a new routine for the space left after penny. i would like to talk to her ghost when i look around. i'd like to keep filling her bowl and imagine her here enjoying the old routine. knowing she's not there when i wake. knowing she'll be gone for good just as she was here for good. feeling her ginger personality in the space where she lived. (she's still here, in the other room, remember. go say hi, touch her head right now, while you can).