Postkort fra 2048: The Tile Bastian Chose
Dear Alma,
Bastian is very old now. The vet-slate says he has "a good amount of time" but it says that in the careful voice grown-ups use when the amount is not that good. He sleeps on the cold tile by the door because the floor stopped warming that corner years ago and nobody fixed it and now it turns out he likes it. So we leave it broken. On purpose. That feels important, letting one thing stay broken because a cat decided he loved it.
I drew him as a dragon guarding a mountain. He does not guard anything. He guards the tile.
Do you remember I told you dragons live 900 years? I looked it up again and that is not real, I made it up when I was little. Cats live like 18. That is not very many.
The window still does the thing where it dims when the sun is too bright, and today I turned it off so the light came in all yellow and Bastian's fur went gold and I just sat there. Mom asked what I was doing. Nothing. Watching him be gold.
Write back soon. Tell me it is okay to be a little sad about a happy afternoon.
Oskar (og Bastian, stadig)
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