I was probably about thirteen. Maybe fourteen. I bought an address book with kittens on the front. Kittens on the back. Kittens on the inside. I wasn't much a fan of cats or kittens, but it was cheap. It had a hard cover and a spiral spine. I had a sort of misplaced idea that I might just need it sometime within the near future. I even had a badge that said 'I hate kittens'. I didn't wear it. I didn't buy it. I didn't rid myself of it though either. I wrote in every detail in pencil. It was a good idea at the time. If anything ever changed, I could always erase it and easily rectify it. Some pages are worn, almost right through from the marks where I leaned the lead into the pages time and time again. I rubbed out a friend's name and changed it again, the third country she's lived in since we met. The page where I wrote my own name and my own address is still fresh. Never changed. Ever.