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What the Hospice Cat Knows
horror◐ Mature5 contributors · 5 paragraphs deep
"He's just a cat," I say, more to myself than to him. Mr. Avery points past my shoulder. "Then who's that behind you?" I turn. There's a thin gray figure standing in the corner of the room, and it has the same flat yellow eyes as the cat in the hall.
I back up against the bed. The gray figure tilts its head, just like the cat does. "It only takes one of us tonight," it says, in a thin, dry voice. "Him, or you." Mr. Avery looks at me with sad, knowing eyes. "I'm old," he says. "You're not. Go. Let it take me." So I do. I walk out, and I don't look back.
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