A woman sits in a room lit by lights from other rooms. She’s sitting on the floor with her back to an empty chair. And she’s crying. The man happens by and notices. “Why are you crying?” he asks. That’s when it happens. Her fist swings with all the force swelling her tears, straight into whatever part of him is nearest. Words just won’t cut it; they haven’t been, for weeks and months. She wants him to realize her emotion, to force him to feel it. But she doesn’t want to hurt him. Too bad her fist is bony and his ribs were nearest and the bruising will keep him sore for days. I mean it; it’s too bad. She shouldn’t have done it. She needed to find a way to accomplish her goal without this contrary side effect. Is there one, though?
To God be all glory.
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