She felt something moving behind her. Ever since her hair had been cut short, she felt the stares of others even more intensely on the back of her neck. Lost in thought, she stroked her cat, which was purring softly on her lap. Far in the background, a rhythmic beeping could be heard. Machines, only they beeped like that for her.

Since the diagnosis, everything had changed. It was a new environment for both of them. A new situation that she did not know how to handle. The cat didn't seem to care about the upheaval and slept just as mindlessly as before. Otherwise, on this day and at this time, she would be on her way to Monika, the neighbor who taught her to play the piano. It would be a quiet Friday with a cup of tea around 3 p.m. and a nice conversation. The only conversations she had now were with people in similar situations, her cat, or the other voices. She had always been sociable and talked to everyone constantly. That she would eventually collapse, suddenly realize that reality was no longer visible, had never been a prospect for her future.

The shadow behind her moved quickly, and the cat jumped up, clawed at the neckline of her shirt, and hissed. Only a babble could be heard from the figure behind her.

So here she sat now, with a brain tumor in the palliative care unit. Just her and her cat. And the voices in her head.