One time I had to let go of someone I loved was when my cat, Mango, died. It was an overcast day when I woke up to go to school. Clouds billowed in the otherwise desolate sky. I was just getting out of bed when I was summoned to the kitchen. My parents were gone, traversing in Japan, so I was living with my grandparents. When I found out Mango was dead, my knees buckled. I felt inclined to go to my room and cry, but I had to get ready for school. We buried him in the backyard. Who knows what’s happened to him since. A few months later, my other beguiling cat, Jr. Mint died. This time, I felt more chastised at life than sad. I wanted to flay my skin off. It’s been a couple years since this happened, and I’ve let go completely. But, I still pine for them sometimes.