Walking closer, she spotted the house that she had tried to consider a home. She was not afraid of being seen. At this point in her life, Aria had perfected the art of going unnoticed. She was far enough away that she could watch them like the ghost of someone who was one of them once. This time, when she kissed Clifford on the forehead and held him one last time, the tears did not come. “I love you, Bobbins,” she said in a whisper, using the nickname that he frequently went by in the house. “I’m gonna miss you.” She let a succession of kisses repeat this sentiment to him before she released her grasp on him. “Go on, run home,” she whispered louder, as an instruction. With no reservation, Clifford fled toward the home as if it were his salvation.

Aria watched him run up the front steps onto the porch and survey the door, only to find it closed. He did not meow to be let in. He was a quiet cat in general. Instead, he sat down on his haunches and began licking himself passionately, restarting the grooming he had ceased during his time with her. She felt her heart break a little bit more, seeing him so relieved and at home in this place that she could not belong to no matter how hard she had tried.