Fourteen years of quiet company.
Gray fur on every sweater. Green eyes in every memory.
Luna was there for all of it — college, two apartments, one really bad breakup, and every quiet evening since. She was the kind of cat who didn't need to do anything to make a room feel less empty. She just was. And that was enough.
This page is her place. All her photos, all her moments, all together. So nothing gets lost. So she stays.
One place for everything. So nothing gets scattered again.
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She's still in every sunbeam on the windowsill.
Still in the fur on every sweater you can't wash.
Still here.