The Beacon Hill Cat

The Beacon Hill Cat

He came home from work late. He sensed an argument was ahead of him, as he sat down at the kitchen table.

And so it begins.

She slams her fist onto the table, spilling her wine glass. A ribbon of red runs across the table, pointing at him like an accusing finger.

Uncleaned dishes piled in the sink, the ruins of their marriage, litter the table. They confront each other from opposite sides of this battlefield, take no prisoners and inflict mortal wounds. The ribbon of red oozes closer to him, like blood leaking from a broken body.

“I’m leaving tonight,” she says. “You can stay in the South Boston condo, I’ve rented a Beacon Hill apartment. You don’t need to know where it is. It’s over between us. Her girlfriend holds her back as she tries to lunge at him. Just so you know, I’m taking the cat to Beacon Hill”

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