Three years ago, the warmth left my life in a single, shattered second.
When I lost my cat, I didn't just lose a pet. I lost the gentle pulse of love that money could never buy. For three endless years, I have crossed roaring rivers and climbed silent mountains, chasing the fading ghost of that warmth. But the wilderness didn't give me answers. It only stole my voice.
They call it selective mutism. They think I choose not to speak. The truth? My words simply refuse to exist in a world where my companion isn't here to listen.
How have I survived these three years in the quiet? Somewhere out there, hidden in the shadows of a world that moved on without us, a trail of soft footsteps is waiting to be found...
