The Fabulous Feline, helped by Tom, moved all of his furniture from his campus apartment to the new one a few miles away. He is living there now (even though he still has to move a few items and clean the old apartment). When I look out of the window, the building I see on the far right is not the one in which he lives anymore. The possibility that I would see him walk out while looking in this direction went from remote (it only happened a couple times in a few years) to nonexistent.

I was happy to see my parents and they are doing fine. We call each other every so often and I wouldn't like to live down the street from them in any case.

The Fabulous Feline's new quarters are great, with lots of commodities us poor grad students cannot afford (washer, dryer, dishwasher, AC, garage, you name it...), only a twenty minute drive away, about fifty minutes by bus with the walking included. We will most likely see if anything more of each other than we used to ‒ going back and forth between our places seven or eight times a week-end is not going to happen anymore. It is, clearly, a change for the better for him, and I will most likely be glad to be spending time over at his new shiny and room-mate-free place.

But. I feel a bit... what? Sad? Nostalgic? Lonely? Disrupted? Scared?

I'm not quite sure. It comes and goes, and I am not quite able to identify the thought that precede this feeling. So I'm going to brush my teeth and remove my make up and climb into bed with a book and slowly go to sleep.

It might not be a good idea to try and finish Wide Sargasso See (which I am reading in French because my mother gave it to me after she read it herself ‒ interestingly enough, the French title means Prisoner of the Sargasso See, and I am not quite sure which one I prefer.) tonight, though.