Dear Wigleaf,

Did you ever wake up in the middle of the night thirsty as hell? So you get up and get a drink of water and then immediately start thinking about Schrodinger's cat. This was me last night. Not pondering quantum superposition or entanglement or Heisenberg's uncertainty principle. Honestly, I don't really understand any of that. No, I was just thinking about the cat, in the box with nothing but a geiger counter hooked up to a tube of cyanide. I thought I should probably get up and try to write, but I didn't. I just lay there. It was sleeting outside.

Also, maybe you know, but all the bats in the northeast are dying. They get this white fungus on their nose and die. And, christ, the honeybees. Please, let's try not to think about the dying honeybees. Some of us are trying to sleep.

Around 4 a.m. I'd had enough of thought experiments. I decided Schrodinger's cat is probably a Russian Blue and his name is Professor Plum and that, alive or dead, he is a big fan of the catnip. Big fan.


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Read JR's story, "Violins."

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