Today I avoid the window- I’ve procrastinated enough on sea stars- and instead focus on tidying my workshop. Stray material has gathered on every surface; the floor is scattered with patterns; white threads of cotton blossom across the arms and back of my chair. I pick at them, consider getting the vacuum cleaner. Why are there starfish on the kitchen window? Ephie as good as said that there must be something wrong in the ocean.

Yesterday I watched a cat paddling along the wall that separates us from the sea. It stopped to pause at every orange star, to sniff anxiously and hiss. Not to lick or touch. Watching it, I felt the hairs go up on the back of my neck. The cat knows something we don’t. I wanted to invite it in, to ask it: Why are you scared of them? Cats are only semi-domesticated. They have plenty of wild instinct left in them.