I’m feeling mammalian this morning: very nearly furry.
As I woke, I was just a little animal whose warm weight was even this moment leaving a warm imprint in the nest of my bed. I felt both front paws tucked together under my chin. I felt the imprint—in the curl of my body—of the fetus I once was.
And I feel the turn of the season. Summer has nearly broken; first light comes later now. It’s the first morning that the heat of my imprint before I first move, feels luxurious.
I stretch; my shoulders crackle.
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