Soupy always waited until the wine glass was empty. And for that, Olivia was thankful. Of course, she would’ve preferred if her little orange furball didn’t knock over the glass at all.
Gone three months already, and her cat was still making his presence felt. She stopped trying to rationalize it. Ghosts… spirits… the afterlife… not her thing. But what other explanation was there? The occasional empty wine glass always ended up on the kitchen floor.
When she found the shards of broken glass tomorrow, she wouldn’t mind the mess. Not in the least.
At least he was still around.
The Weekday One Hundred 