The Cat in The Sun. Part VII.
When she returns to herself.
The Cat in the Sun series. Part VII.
She doesn’t rush the return.
She doesn’t collapse into sorrow or chase distraction.
She just begins to gather.
A breath.
A thread of sunlight.
A part of herself that had wandered into someone else's gaze
and lingered there too long.
She wraps herself in quiet.
Not loneliness —
but reclamation.
She touches her own skin like a remembering.
Walks through the room barefoot
as if her body were an altar
and every step, a prayer.
There is grief, yes.
The soft ache of almost.
But there is also pride.
Because this time,
she did not abandon herself
for the promise of being held.
She let herself feel.
She let herself hope.
And she left with her soul intact.
Now, in the golden silence,
she blooms again.
Not for anyone.
Not for the gaze.
But for herself.
She stretches.
She breathes.
She turns her face to the sun.
And she knows —
the next time someone meets her here,
they will not find a woman waiting.
They will find a woman already home.