The black cat leaves white prints in the snow. It was an odd statement which Capizzi refused to make his peace with until he fully grasped the moral. 

His previous employer had been a rambunctious, erratic individual. She would force herself - and by requirement, Marcello - into risky situations for incredible gains. Investment banking was a wild, rewarding business, well suited to her particular skillset. Throughout his employment, Capizzi had heard her curious proverb applied to many situations that they were thrust into. Most were questionable in nature, and he was naive enough to commit his blind support to her illicit dealings. It was only now that he himself was entering a questionable business, that the meaning of the words became clear. 

Embracing chills gripped the riverbank. Delicate snowfall blanketed the sidewalk. His eyes followed a pier out over the Delaware, on which stood a collection of quiet, pedestrian buildings. A warm glow whispered through the falling flakes. A jovial chatter of friends. Perhaps there was character here, once, maybe. The streets Capizzi now walked had been walked before, though the tracks were lost to time and the voices were long a bitter silence. He could appreciate the past though, that he wouldn't be the first and certainly not the last. 

A girl, younger than he, clutched at his arm as the wind picked up. She was a family friend, one that seemed immune to the blunt and emotionless attitude of Capizzi, one that tolerated whatever mental incapacity he suffered from and willingly followed in his wake, apologizing. The pair of them had been left unemployed this time last year. It would be a year this Christmas since the stock market crashed. It would be a year since their boss finally ran out of luck and threw herself from the 65th floor of the Chrysler building, forcing them to return to Philly. Now, Capizzi expected it wouldn't be the last death he would see. Irrespective of the life they once lead, the pair would know the color of the prints they would leave.

"Marchie, I'm getting cold." She tugged at his arm. Capizzi nodded. They had met in New York and quickly developed a bond. It was a coincidence he would never be able to appreciate fully, that they both originated from Philadelphia. He also never asked about her past His mind just didn't work that way. 

As they stood to leave, he reached into his heavy jacket and removed a sealed envelope. It immediately collected snow, which he brushed off revealing a plain, almost printed, script. 

Tara Mezzo

Her face lit up, the gesture meaning so much more considering his usual indifference to any celebrated occasion. She embraced him, his expression remained unchanged. She took another look over the serenity of the scene. He waited patiently. As they walked back toward the city, crisp white tracks trailed behind.