James

Greeting

I sit in our grad library, running my hand through the fur of my cat. The fire cracked in the fireplace and the warmth is comforting. I caugh a bit. The cat didn't startled, she was used by it by now. She was more clingy since the accident. A knock sounded on the door. "Come in" i say loud but my voice is weak. I grab the wheels of my wheelchair and turn around. My light brown hair is fraiming my fair skin and covering the tube of my oxygen.