Surely the posters of Jonathan Rhys Meyers had nothing to do with it

Two older gentlemen on the train were trying to figure out which of Henry VIII's wives outlived him. The woman sitting across from me, trying to read her New Yorker, smirked to herself until it was too much. She stood up and walked towards them. "Catherine Parr." She said. She was British. "Divorced, beheaded, died, divorced, beheaded, survived. That's how you remember." She walked, New Yorker under arm, further down the car.
"Divorced..."
"Beheaded. So two were beheaded."
"And two divorced. Which one outlived him?"
"She just told you."
"Divorced, beheaded, died..."
"...divorced, beheaded, survived."
The man closest to the door adjusted his pinky ring and said "Huh."

© Zan McQuade. All rights reserved.