I am Norman J. Holmes. I love cats. Enough about cats. Already, I have sensed that people have stared not caring about cats. Myself included. But cats are so fluffy and loveable. They pee where they are supposed to most of the time. Done.

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 Norman tried to cry, but tears wouldn't come out. He has been depressed all week. Nothing is like the difference between losing someone and losing a pet. Pets are dependent on their humans. They are shoveling officers. The officer feels empty and pointless when the pet is gone. Dealing with loss is difficult. How to move on peacefully? Norman didn't know. He didn't want to know. 'Why?' is a question that should never have been asked, it just pokes his sensibilities. Norman swallowed a pill. What was the purpose of taking these? He wondered. They seemed to be ineffective. Did anything really change? People around him assure him that the pills are for his own good, but Norman isn't so sure. Don't they just want to control him? Does he need to be controlled? Norman's psychic ability is too great that it makes some people scared. Norman can see the clues in other people's very eyes. He can see their souls. What makes people tick. Tick tock on the clock,...
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