Heather Zoppetti

@digitalnabi.bsky.social

226 Followers 179 Following

🦋💙🖌️🧵 (she/her) Philly software engineer, technical writer, former knitwear designer, and aspiring fiction writer. I love coffee, cats, and the Oxford comma. https://heatherzoppetti.com

Cover art for STELLAR PARALLAX book features a space ship flying in front of a planet
Orange and white cat reaching toward the camera upside down.
Orange and white cat lays on his back on the couch looking into the camera upside down
We had been doing this for a while now. It had been at least a year since I had almost drowned. Since then, my mother had orbited around me like I would perish in any small amount of water.
Rusty the cat glares at the camera with ears back.
Rusty, an orange and white cat, is snuggled up next to his human on the couch while snow is falling gently outside.
I had promised myself I wouldn't just sit at home. Craig had made me take time off, and if I was going to be forced into idleness, I would make something of it. That meant walking, moving, seeing-anything but curling up on my couch and letting grief pin me there.
Photo illustrates the beginnings of a handknit sweater that is largely ribbing. The first five inches are done. Yarn is a hard-to-capture bluish green heathered yarn.
I had promised myself I wouldn't just sit at home. Craig had made me take time off, and if I was going to be forced into idleness, I would make something of it. That meant walking, moving, seeing-anything but curling up on my couch and letting grief pin me there.
Rusty, an orange and white cat, lounges on a wool, crochet blanket draped over a warm radiator.
"Hey, stranger." "Oh, Adam. Hey." She offered an empty smile. The waitress gave her a look that asked, this the guy? And then turned to me with a barely disguised sneer. "What can I get ya?"
Rusty the orange and white cat glares at the camera from behind a laptop. He wonders: how are you doing?
After ordering, I looked around the apartment. My mother would've hated this space. She'd say it was too small, too dark. She'd shake her head at the overwhelming number of books on the floor and dishes filling the sink. I could almost hear her voice, sharp with disapproval, softened only by some complicated strain of love that never felt genuine.
You're not lost, the chasm whispered—not in sound, but directly into my thoughts. You're found. You're special. Full of magic. "Amazing," I breathed, almost laughing, my body tipping forward without my permission.
And then, instead of working harder, I started avoiding it. I told myself I needed a break, I'd get back on track after the weekend. Then the weekend turned into another week another missed assignment, another excuse.
A braid of spinning fiber from @intothewhirled yarn in the color “Unobtainium” which is green, purple, and blue. The blend is 70/15/15 Merino/Yak/Silk
An olive green skein of handspun yarn right off the niddy-noddy
The stars above blurred into a single soft glow, and everything else—past, future, whatever came after—faded away until it was only us. Just warmth and the quiet magic of a kiss we’d both been holding back for too long.
Rusty the cat in his window bed soaking in the sun.
Rusty, an orange and white cat, lays half on his back with a paw resting on his face. He’s had it with this week, but it’s only Wednesday.
In Philly, I could vanish if I wanted to. Slip into the ocean of tourists, linger unseen in Reading Terminal Market among the chatter and clatter of lunch. Nobody cared if I was new or local or just passing through; the city's attention was elsewhere. I'd always loved that about Philadelphia. It was big enough to hold every story without demanding I share my own.
"But you didn't love it?" She sighed. "I enjoyed winning. I liked the feeling of excelling at something. But the act of running? Pushing myself until my lungs burned and my legs felt like jelly, just so I could make my parents proud?" She shook her head. "I don't think I ever ran for me."
Maybe that's why I let her go. Because, to me, love had always been fleeting. Losing her on my own terms felt safer than waiting for her to realize she didn't feel the same.
And I didn't feel jealous of their close-ness. I didn't even feel angry about the years that had slipped away. I just missed my friend. The girl who used to meet me at the reservoir when her thoughts got too loud. The one who made up fake horror movie plots for people we didn't like. The one who always knew when I needed her—without me having to say it.
Orange cat sits at the top of his tree looking down at me with disdain.
She sighed and swirled the ice in her soda with her straw. "I've wanted to leave. Almost have a million times, but something kept me. This place is a trap. You shouldn't have come back, Adam. It will trap you, too," Kira said.
So part of me wondered if that meant I could change too. I didn't know if it was possible to rebuild a life when the version of yourself that broke it in the first place is still in there somewhere. But I had watched my father try, fail, and try again. Maybe that's all redemption is— failing forward. I hoped I had that in me, too. I'd like to think so.
Rusty, an orange and white cat, takes a selfie while lounging on the couch.
I stood there for a long time, the smell of herbs and soap and scorched garlic thick in the air. I didn't know what to say. So I said the worst thing: nothing.
Adam leaned forward, elbows resting on his guitar. "I don't think anyone feels normal. Not really. But you being honest —that's more real than half the people out there playing house with smiles they don't mean."
Orange and white cat, Rusty, naps in a loose shrimp pose with one hand draped over his head. A bright handknit blanket covers his lower body.
Maybe she should have made more friends in the city. It had been years now, and yet she'd built a life out of distance, low expect-ations, polite conversations, and jokes that went nowhere
Certain she could live on coffee alone, she poured herself a cup and cooed over the steaming hot liquid of life. Mmm.
"You think we'll still be friends in ten years?" she asked suddenly. I didn't even hesitate. "Duh." "You sound so sure." "Because I am. You're stuck with me, Bywater. Like gum on a shoe." "Gross." She crinkled her nose. "Accurate," I said. "We're going to grow old and retire together. Just you wait."
Rusty the orange cat caught mid bath making silly faces.
Rusty, an orange and white cat, curls up on the couch and covers his face with a paw.
"Because I can't leave," he said simply. Myla swallowed, the sweetness of the root suddenly bitter on her tongue. "You mean you don't want to.' His mouth twitched. "Same difference."
I think it was late fall, junior year, but it could’ve been earlier. In that strange way memory distorts time, it felt both recent and ancient. Like a dream I half-remember, but swear changed me.
Kyle leaned back, grinning. “Told you. Makes everything better.” They sprawled in the dim living room, music from the cheap stereo humming low. Lukas stared at the ceiling, tracing the hairline cracks in the plaster. For the first time in months, he wasn’t angry. He wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t anything. The peace was so intoxicating he almost missed the whisper at the back of his mind. More. You’ll need more of this.
Rusty, the orange and white cat, stretches on the bed while looking adorable.
She hadn’t cried at the funeral. She thought she might afterward, alone in the rental car, but even then, nothing came. Only a heavy weight pressing down behind her sternum. Her grief had calcified into a solid mass, like a second heart made of stone. Maybe that was the real reason she couldn’t focus—because she didn’t know how to grieve someone who had left bruises in the shape of love.
Rusty the cat sits on my desk looking into the camera. Unconcerned about blocking my screen, today is all about him.
Rusty the cat lounging in one of his favorite boxes.
After attacking this rope, Rusty (an orange and white cat) flops next to it on the hardwood floor. He looks up at the camera both exhausted and satisfied.
Rusty, the cat, as a kitten looking dapper in a bow tie.
A pair of photos. The top image is a baby Rusty the cat, in a cat bed positioned by a window. Baby Rusty occupies less than half the bed. The bottom photo is Rusty the cat 3 years later in the same cat bed. He’s overflowing it!
Orange and white cat sleeps on the couch. He’s half on his back and half curled up.
Rusty rests, trying not to sleep, next to me on the couch. He’s snuggled up against my leg while I read, and losing the battle to stay awake.
Poochie the dog curled up in a rainbow knit blanket while hiding her face.
Poochie (an orange brindle dog) teaches Rusty (an orange and white cat) all about squeaky toys. Both pets sit on the couch during this discussion. Rusty remains unconvinced.
Rusty the cat sleeps on his back with front paws curled in. One fang shows itself through his half smile.
Rusty the orange cat lays in shrimp position with one paw extended toward the camera.
Rusty laying in on his back looking up at and extending one paw towards the camera. He’s in his shell bed which sits inside a box of yarn so he doesn’t roll off the radiator.
Movie poster pitch for Shadows Will Shine, featuring a simple white on black style and an illustration of the moon in various phases. The text at the top points out major themes: Rebellion, Identity, Vengeance, and Magic. The bottom states the following log line: On a planet where magic fades, Juley and Izar embark on a journey of self-discovery and resistance to stop a corrupt government from capturing the rebel’s DNA altering machines, while proving friendship and even love is more grey than black and white.
Rusty playing in a giant box that once held his new cat bed. Proving once again, the box is all you need.
Rusty the cat explores a new donut bed. He’s inside with his head peeking out.
Rusty as a kitten, napping on a blanket, on his back. His arms are extended over his head to show off his toebeans.
A baby cat curled up in a window hammock, one foot extending toward the camera, toe beans exposed.
A sad cat stares longingly out of the window. He wishes he would have stayed outside longer when he had the chance. Now he’s crying.
Rusty the cat lounges in his shell bed and stares into the camera. Note, the shell is in a box because otherwise he rolls it off the radiator, and it must be near the open window.