The furthest away I've ever lived from my cat is one thousand and eight kilometres.
On the other side of that stretch is a little hole in the ground called Grahamstown. If you go the distance and it's nowhere to be found, don't worry, it's around there somewhere - most likely in a pub or a ditch. Grahamstown - beautiful, horrifying, hazardous Grahamstown - has been my home for the past two and a half years.
Tomorrow, I am moving to my new home.
For the next four months, I will live thirteen thousand three hundred and ninety-two kilometres away from my cat, and this is the story of how I will attempt to cope with that.
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