which she’d bought mainly for the Ryan Bailey interview. No new additions in a long time.
There was a bowl still full of cat food. She looked everywhere, calling his name.
It was only when she went back into her bedroom and looked under the bed that she saw him. “Volts!”
The cat wasn’t moving. As her arms weren’t long enough to reach him, she moved the bed.
“Voltsy. Come on, Voltsy,” she whispered. But the moment she touched his cold body she knew, and she was flooded with sadness and confusion.
She immediately found herself back in the Midnight Library, facing Mrs Elm, who was sat this time in a comfy chair, deeply absorbed in one of the books.
“I don’t understand,” Nora told her. Mrs Elm kept her eyes on the page she was reading. “There will be many things you don’t understand.”
“I asked for the life in which Voltaire was still alive.” “Actually, you didn’t.” “What?”
She put her book down. “You asked for the life where you kept him indoors. That is an entirely different thing.”
“Is it?” “Yes. Entirely. You see, if you’d have asked for the life where he was still alive I would have had to say no.”
“But why?” “Because it doesn’t exist.” “I thought every life exists.”
“Every possible life. You see, it turns out that Voltaire had a serious case of” – she read carefully from the book –
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