She was let out last week after four years. I apologized and rubbed some salve where the chains were chafing. Fed and washed, she found my reel to reel. Gratefully and with the utmost seriousness, went to splicing my field recordings with cellotape and a pair of scissors, sometimes for hours a day. She kept the house tidy while I sought out work, and in the evenings I would cook then read her "Acts of worship" and "Wild Sheep Chase" while her head lay on my lap.
Then I found Elliquiy. She made me promise to never mistreat her again. I haven't been able to stop writing since.