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It is some minutes before I find Amber at the bottom of the stairs, cradling the Kitten and weeping.

I ask Amber to confirm the obvious: "Are you crying?"

I barrel down before they can answer.

They are whole--no blood, no broken limbs. Aside from squirming to escape his obligation to comfort, the kitten seems happy. No pet has died to provoke their despair, but Amber's reaction is not far removed.

"Cornell. I heard back," Amber says. "They rejected me."
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