Liu Feilin's Cat

The apartment was thick with dust, but the spot beside my food bowl was as clean as ever. This was the nineteenth time I had pushed open the bedroom door, left ajar. My paws touched the floor without making a sound. The standby light on Liu Feilin's laptop still blinked on her desk, like a heartbeat. It had been three months. Her family couldn't bring themselves to turn it off, as if cutting the power would make her truly disappear.