The pixelated cat stretched, its tail flicking. “That’s okay. You were busy growing up. Are we still going to move to France and open that bookstore?”
Clara stared at the blinking cursor for a long time. The rain tapped against her actual window, mirroring the digital rain she had programmed to fall on the green lawn when she was sad.
“Not really,” she admitted to the file she had packed away a lifetime ago.
The screen went black for a moment before a low-resolution window opened. It was a simulation, crudely coded but undeniably charming. On screen was a pixelated, cream-colored kitten sitting on a green digital lawn. The graphics were reminiscent of late-90s desktop pets. In the bottom right corner, a text box scrolled.