The pitter patter of little feets

Last night I slept badly. I couldn't get the image of the cute little ball of fluff lying dead on the road out of my head. It's haunting.
Plus my flatmate isn't home at the moment, she's down in Wellington because her boyfriend is having surgery today so she won't be home for a few days so the house is really quiet.
I keep thinking I hear the kitten meowing or running up and down the hallway.
I know it's not possible but it's hard to grasp the fact she's not around anymore.
I turned my radio on and listened to it all night to block out noise and the images.
I can't stand the silence, it's driving me insane.
I need a hug.
Although I'm not keen on work currently, as it is my last week, I would rather be here around people than be alone in the house constantly thinking about things that are driving me mental.
Lack of sleep in this job is a killer, just because it is impossible to write or think fast when your brain is functioning at a rate MUCH slower than usual.
Sure, there are caffiene pills or coffee but nothing beats a good sleep.
I woke up this morning and opened my door, expecting to see the kitten outside my door waiting for attention but nothing.
This whole thing is driving me completely mental.
I walk to my car in the morning and keep expecting to see her on the road still.
It just feels so bad.
Luckily I'm moving out in 5 days so I won't have to think about it.
Maybe I did move out a month too late.
Funny that when my flatmate got the kitten she wouldn't let me touch it so it wasn't sad when I moved out and didn't miss me but she needn't have worried.

Varelai.