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The Galaxy According To BalatStar
all five horizons revolve around my soul
An ordinary weekend with Squall 
5th-Jan-2014 11:08 am
oyako
I walk to my room, carrying my freshly microwaved lunch and a mug of green tea, which is the usual for weekends. Squall is there, just outside the door. I try to entice him in with the smell of food but he just stares, unconvinced.

I go in, plop my plate, and myself, in front of the PC, watch the latest episode of Sherlock for maybe the millionth time. It's the first episode out, after the 2-year hiatus. John has a girlfriend, and Sherlock is, short version: Not Dead.

My door opens and in comes Squall. He parks himself beside my chair, looks at me with forlorn eyes. "Mummy, food!" The words come out of my lips but it is he who says it. "No, Hunnykie," I reply, in my own voice. This is how conversations go between me and Squall, not unlike a ventriloquist and his puppet. Today, lunch is spaghetti, with drippy tomato sauce and ground pork, which is impossible to feed him without making a mess.

After a while, he gives up, walks out. I get up and close the door. I feel uncomfortable watching shows with the bedroom door open. The disembodied sounds are possibly irritations to others, like neighbors singing karaoke in full volume in the middle of the night.

Squall sees me close the door, and after a few seconds, he opens it again. He gets suspicious when my door is closed. He wants me in sight. He stations himself back beside my chair. I look at him and smile. I try to rub his head but he ducks away. He doesn't want my touch, just my food. He gets bored, walks out again. I wait a few minutes to make sure he's out of range before I get up to close the door.

This time it takes him a few minutes to come back in.

"Bunny," I say in exasperation.

He stares at my plate for a few minutes. When he gets bored watching me watch Sherlock, he walks over to his corner, curls up and goes to sleep.
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