I zip my suitcase gradually, striving to disguise the audio but even so, I hear a stirring from the dwelling area couch, and then four feet clamoring up the stairs, her tail rhythmically hanging the baluster. My pet Mathilde finds me in the bed room and gazes with a fifty percent-concerned, half-accusatory glimpse, aimed very first at me, then at the suitcase, and then back again at me once more.
“It is all right, really don’t fear,” I say, attempting to disguise my annoyance that she caught me striving to cover from her that I was leaving. Of study course, I leave normally to go to my office or to the gym — but my briefcase or gym bag do not incite in her the same nervous glance. In those people cases, she doesn’t hassle relocating from her spot on the sofa, understanding, I presume, that it will never be
