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"It isn't real." They told her, "You're living a lie."

She laughed. "Of course not," She said, "It is real." She told them.

"It is real." She told herself, stroking the cat in her lap. The cat never purred, nor meowed, nor hissed. Never. It made not a single sound. Even as it leapt from red rooftop to rooftop on sunny days, one would not hear the patter on the shingles. It seemed ghostly, yet tangible. And tangible is what she had decided it was.

The shadows shifted. They surrounded her in the small room. Almost, it seemed, suffocating her. But they were kept back, back against the walls of her confinement. It was dark, save for a slight crack in the wall where a light shone through. It played upon her eyes, and she turned her head to let her hair fall to obscure it. Had the crack been any bigger, she decided, the light would be blinding.

"You need to let go." They said.

She kept stroking the cat. "There's nothing to let go of." A pause, and then she looked up suddenly, and grinned. "Unless of course," she said, "you mean let go of you. That, I would gladly do." She looked down again.

The telephone rang. She reached out, and grabbed it.

"Hello?" She said.

It was nothing but static on the other end.

"Yes, I'd like that." She said.

She didn't hear static on the other end.

"No, no. Not parmesan. I like cheddar. " She said.

But static was all there was.

"Right then, yes. Good bye." She put down the receiver.

The shadows hadn't left. They still swam about the room, silent.

"It's not a lie." She told nobody, "I can prove it's real." She held up the cat. "It's real," She said. "Real." She whispered, as if tasting the word on her mouth.

A hammer struck somewhere. The wall slightly cracked open some more. The light shone through her hair. It played upon her eyes, which looked around the room. She shook slightly. The room was empty. She put the cat down.

"It isn't real." They told her again. She looked around wildly. "Go away!" She screamed. Her vision blurred. "It's real." She told herself. "It's real!" she screamed. She would have said more, but a lump in her throat prevented her from speaking.

The shadows seemed to multiply. The air was oppressing. "Stop comforting yourself in your lies." They said. "It's time to let go."

Her chest was heaving, her cheeks tear-stained. Her breath came in short gasps. "No," she said. "There is no lie."

"Then why are you crying?" They asked.

"Because you won't go away!" She screamed. Her hands felt for the cat in her lap. She looked down.

There was no cat.

Fear rose up her throat. Panic filled her mind.

And then she laughed. A shrill, ear piercing laugh that filled up everything, so that when she stopped, and gazed at the shadows closing in on her, there was no room in her head for anything.

Description
"It isn't real." They told her, "You're living a lie."

She laughed. "Of course not," She said, "It is real." She told them.

"It is real." She told herself, stroking the cat in her lap. The cat never purred, nor meowed, nor hissed. Never. It made not a single sound. Even as it leapt from red rooftop to rooftop on sunny days, one would not hear the patter on the shingles. It seemed ghostly, yet tangible. And tangible is what she had decided it was.

The shadows shifted. They surrounded her in the small room. Almost, it seemed, suffocating her. But they were kept back, back against the walls of her confinement. It was dark, save for a slight crack in the wall where a light shone through. It played upon her eyes, and she turned her head to let her hair fall to obscure it. Had the crack been any bigger, she decided, the light would be blinding.

"You need to let go." They said.

She kept stroking the cat. "There's nothing to let go of." A pause, and then she looked up suddenly, and grinned. "Unless of course," she said, "you mean let go of you. That, I would gladly do." She looked down again.

The telephone rang. She reached out, and grabbed it.

"Hello?" She said.

It was nothing but static on the other end.

"Yes, I'd like that." She said.

She didn't hear static on the other end.

"No, no. Not parmesan. I like cheddar. " She said.

But static was all there was.

"Right then, yes. Good bye." She put down the receiver.

The shadows hadn't left. They still swam about the room, silent.

"It's not a lie." She told nobody, "I can prove it's real." She held up the cat. "It's real," She said. "Real." She whispered, as if tasting the word on her mouth.

A hammer struck somewhere. The wall slightly cracked open some more. The light shone through her hair. It played upon her eyes, which looked around the room. She shook slightly. The room was empty. She put the cat down.

"It isn't real." They told her again. She looked around wildly. "Go away!" She screamed. Her vision blurred. "It's real." She told herself. "It's real!" she screamed. She would have said more, but a lump in her throat prevented her from speaking.

The shadows seemed to multiply. The air was oppressing. "Stop comforting yourself in your lies." They said. "It's time to let go."

Her chest was heaving, her cheeks tear-stained. Her breath came in short gasps. "No," she said. "There is no lie."

"Then why are you crying?" They asked.

"Because you won't go away!" She screamed. Her hands felt for the cat in her lap. She looked down.

There was no cat.

Fear rose up her throat. Panic filled her mind.

And then she laughed. A shrill, ear piercing laugh that filled up everything, so that when she stopped, and gazed at the shadows closing in on her, there was no room in her head for anything.