I had done exactly what I had set out to do after I left the police station.
Go home and curl up into a ball.
Some part of my mind thought that maybe, just maybe, if I made myself smaller, the problems would shrink with me. Just like I had done so many times before.
Was it too much to ask for answers?
There weren't enough answers to even compare with the number of questions running through my mind. It was like every question was a puzzle piece but for hundreds of different puzzles.
"Mraow?"
I felt Yoko nestle into my lap, rubbing her head against my hand which has closed into a tight fist without me even noticing.
A sigh escaped my lips as I began to stoke the old tabby cat, the steady sound of her purr granting me a sense of stability.
"Do cats have dreams?" I looked down at Yoko, knowing full well I would get no response.
"I bet you dream about a really fluffy bed. Honestly, I don't blame you."
I sighed, "Yoko, I fucking love you. How can a cat seem to be so put together? It makes no sense. Sometimes I feel like we should switch for the day, y' know? You could do whatever the hell a cat would do in a human body and I could just sleep. Not have to worry about problems like who's trying to kill me and whatnot."
I looked down at the cat who had fallen asleep in my lap.
"See? Just like that."
Letting my body go limp, I fell back against the carpeted floor, letting Yoko sprawl out on my chest as she fell into whatever cat dream she was having.
"Maybe you're plotting against me." I gently tapped the cat's forehead who just stuck her tongue out and licked her little nose in response.
"Nah, that would be the strangest fucking plot twist of my life."
If my life were a story, I don't think anyone would read it.
"You wouldn't kill me, would you baby? I trust you."
My lack of memories would be plot holes.
"But then again, you are a cat. How would you kill me? Maybe... death by claws? That seems like a pretty cool way to go. Definitely wouldn't be an open casket though."
I wonder where the full stop will be?
"You'd still be invited to the funeral. Maybe Scarfy would adopt you."
What kind of character would I be?
"You'd probably prefer that to living with me."
Would I be the protagonist?
"Yoko! I worked out your reason for killing me! It'd be because you want Scarfy all for yourself."
Or would I be the antagonist?
"Well no chance, he's mine missy."
Would I even be the main character?
"Scarfy's mine."
Would my thoughts even fill a paragraph? Or would they fall flat?
"You've been stuck with me all this time, do you ever just think of leaving one day?"
How many pages would my story fill?
"Just up and leave through the first exit you find?"
Would the chapters go on and on, or would they just stop?
"Why have you stayed for so long?"
Would anyone even want to write my story?
"You could leave, anytime you want- and yet you're still here."
I looked back down at Yoko once more, observing her completely peaceful manner.
"What made you stay?"
It's not like are understood what I was saying. But I found comfort in talking to her.
"Why aren't you off on your own cat adventure? Why did you decide to stay with boring old me, huh?"
Like I said before: if my life were a story, I don't think anyone would read it.
So why are you still here?
DO YOU EVEN REMEMBER HER NAME?