Every night, the same window.
While the city counts its lights, Catori counts them back. There's a sprout in a glass of water, a string of fairy lights that never quite all work, and a cat who has decided this sill is the best seat in town.
Catori doesn't chase candles. Catori watches, sits, and blinks slowly at you, which in cat means I trust you. That's the whole idea.
— notes from the windowsill


















