I'm camping in my father's laundry room with Pavel. We lost electricity at home and it's unseasonably cold in Detroit. Pavel is quarantined because she sheds everywhere and my step-mother is allergic to cats. I am quarantined because Pavel won't stop crying when I leave her.
I watch her react to the world, which she seems to have forgotten; living on a third floor, she doesn't kill and she hasn't seen direct sunlight in months. I wonder, when she sees it, if she gets the jabbing sense of déjà vu that you get when you know you've been somewhere but, at some point, realize that it was in a dream, or you feel like you must have been there in a dream because it seems too unreal, or a million other ors.
