“Get out! You lazy bitch!” The man yelled and the cat shot out dodging a whisky bottle that smashed at the doorway.
The old dun-colored cat refuged behind the dustbins across the street, watchful of her master reeling through the hallway until he slammed the door. Her deep scars whispered to her that this was the last time and the door will remain shut forever. The mulish cat refused to accept it and lingered for weeks in the outskirts of the property, hoping that her meows could soften the heart of her master and grant her a loaf of breath or a place next to the heater.
Her scars were right.