too late

( for the cat-loving girl who thinks too much

this is from man or mango, a lament

someone has lost my book again

the protagonist's name is eloise

she had a good fuck before she died

the other interesting thing is a writing student's notebook

she died in an accident while running away from her writing teacher)

My favourite cat has died and my house has been burglared. A speeding car ran over the cat and broke her back, just outside on the lane. She was still breathing, so i took her to the vet, yelling at her all the way to live.

Returned, minus cat, to find a police car outside my house. The neighbours had called them when they noticed a window had been broken. But not only had i been burglared, i'd been incompletely burglared. My parents' papers were strewn everywhere- a sea of papers- and my clock and my cello were gone. Eventually, the police found the clock beside the broken window: the burglar must have been disturbed as he was leaving ( perhaps by the neighbours), panicked, and left the clock behind. But he took the clock key, so now i can't wind it. But why do i need to know what time it is? I know all too well it's too late, too late.

The neighbours are thrilled- their every new D.I.Y window lock has been vindicated. While i lay here in a pool of my parents' papers, papers designed to overwhelm the soul.

Why couldn't the world just leave me alone, me and my little clock and my little cat?

( i am going to find the book online now )