Killing the Cat

A kitten padded down the street, pausing, looking up and down, then turning to his left and continuing his evening stroll.

Inside the house whose door the kitten paused in front of there was a man and a woman talking heatedly to themselves. The heat outside was stifling, the air heavy, heavier than the whisperes from their mouths.

They were both under a thin sheet, wearing nothing other than that, facing each other, urgent words coming.

“Just listen, ok? Just listen,” the man was saying to her. She looked as if she would object then, like the cat had decided his choice, made hers to be silent. She nodded. The man continued.

“They promise that it’s going to pay off, ok? They told me it’s a good deal, that we should go in on it. We should look into it.”

She frowned slightly, hesitated, then nodded again. “Ok, you’ve got me curious.”

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