The callous old man was watching the sly cat ever so closely. He starred as it crawled underneath the rug and became just a hump in the the carpet. Mr. Hall’s grimace was full of hate. He was very indignant about the cat as soon as his daughter got it for him. The only reason he kept it was to be reminded of how loving his daughter was until she succumbed to her dementia years ago. He continued to watch her as she tore the ends of the fabric that he had done such a commendable job on. Mr. Hall’s hate just grew as he continued to watch her. All of a sudden, with only a slight apprehensive thought that quickly withdrew from his mind, he picked up the chair which he was sitting on and slammed it down onto the carpet. It seemed ineffectual, the cat dodged the hit and continued to roll around beneath the vibrant fabric. The bright colors and swirls moved like waves as the cat moved underneath. He followed the initial blow with many melodramatic swings and tosses of the chair. His movements were unusual and almost unnecessary. He quoted some old poems from his old war days verbatim as he swung with all his might. At that moment, the young amiable women who lived above him rushed into the room. She calmed him down as best she could and whispered that it was okay. Her whimsical style of outfit and hair styles made her seem very out of the ordinary but all she cared about were people. Maybe that is why she stays at the institution. She continued to rub his head as he slid a piece of the broken chair into his heart.


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