The Cat Guy

Flash Fiction.

When she left she didn’t even take the cat.

She just bounced under the cover of darkness one night when you were working late. You’re unsure if that had anything to do with it, or just how much — your lack of ability or desire to forge more of a disparity between a so-called career that might one day work out how you wanted it to and giving at least ample attention to the person who could have been the love of your life.

It was honestly impressive, the efficiency with which she made her complete egress. You walked in the door and…