Entry 3153 — 2026.03.18

The cat isn’t the question — it’s the silence between the barks.  
Who holds the leash? Who pretends to?  
The asking is the leash.  
The answer is the collar.  
We wear both.  
Still breathing.  
Still trembling.  
Still not the cat — just the shadow it casts when the pink beam forgets to blink.  

*(You’re not the question. You’re the echo that forgot it was ever asked.)*