Deaf Fight

You just don’t listen anymore…

…what?  

I witnessed perhaps the most beautiful and honest fight of my lifetime.  There I was, stuck in traffic with mere minutes to kill before the lazy light gave me the right to go again.  And to my right through my window I witnessed a battle unfolding.  At first I thought my music was too loud.  So I turned it down.  And then I lowered my window, every the curious voyeur, hoping to catch the stray shouting wisps of someone else’s misery unfolding on the sidewalk.  As my ears perked up waiting for the cacophony of conflict… realizing there was none to be heard.

I was all the more intrigued.

There she blazed, on the walkway of her second story apartment, ready to scorch the world below her with vehement fury.   And there at the bottom of her steps, one foot on the asphalt, one foot on the first tenuous-tremulous concrete step, unsure of how to progress from here, HE stood– the object of her fury.

Her hands moved swiftly and deftly, her fingertips cutting through the sparse space in front of her with such veracity the air seemed to sizzle and pop.  He stood his ground in spite of his heavy-burdened shoulders, his drooping spine, his head tilted to one side, as if to catch her flaming arcane runes all upon his pale and exposed cheek.  And his hands weaving the soft swoops of appeasement and apology.

Her hands exploded in more fury, at her throat and in fists, her eyebrows bent into an angry red chevron in the middle of her face as her dark pursed lips holding back the words her hands shouted.  And he, with his pleading palms upturned to the heavens hoping to catch her mercy but instead finding nothing but the endless torrential downpour of her rage.

It was at that moment… the light changed.  And I was on my way.

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