“Not really,” she admitted to the file she had packed away a lifetime ago.
Clara stared at the blinking cursor for a long time. The rain tapped against her actual window, mirroring the digital rain she had programmed to fall on the green lawn when she was sad. kittycat.7z
Clara looked at the screen, a lump forming in her throat. She hadn't thought about the bookstore in ten years. Life had happened. Rent had happened. Safety had happened. “No,” Clara typed. “I work in insurance now.” “Not really,” she admitted to the file she
Clara’s breath caught. It wasn’t just a simple loop. It was a digital diary, an AI experiment she had tinkered with during her brief stint as a computer science major before she switched to business. She had programmed it to learn from her, to store her venting sessions, her hopes, and her fears, and reflect them back to her through the avatar of a cat. She typed into the input box: “I forgot you existed.” Clara looked at the screen, a lump forming in her throat