They had everything to say to each other, but silence permeated the room. It wore heavily on the young couple, the dark circles darkening and the sore, sore muscles growing more rigid with time or age, whichever one is more important. The girl crossed her legs, rubbing her hands up and down the worn pink chair, the loose threads getting caught in her ring once, then twice, before she paused and folded her hands. The chair was a gift from her mother to celebrate “The Big Day,” but the girl wasn’t thinking about that now, of course she wasn’t, it wasn’t the time. The sun rose behind her and the glass covered floor beneath her bare feet glistened. The boy sat opposite her, head in hands, back against the wall, distance dancing in his eyes. Even the risen sun, and the early morning joggers chit-chatting about the next block party, simple tell tales of morning, didn’t bring a spoken word between the couple. Dogs barked and marriages ended, the sun rose and the moon fell. Eventually, the boy got up, dusted himself off slightly and then walked upstairs to get dressed for the day. When she heard the shower start, the girl sighed quietly. She ran her hands through her hair, before walking into the kitchen and switching on the kettle. Her hands ran across the length of their boiling teapot. Never touching it long enough to get burnt, but finally, she could feel something. Maybe if she stood here long enough, hands just dancing across the aluminum, the feeling would travel further than this tiny moment. Beams and dominos crashing down. It would fix itself, she knew… she knew that in just a few minutes he would walk out. The door would slam, no words spoken, but the whole house would vibrate and the living room would glisten. She knew that dogs barked and marriages ended. She knew that deeper than that feeling she was so wishing would be fixed by that stupid dented kettle. But lying is easier than knowing. So the girl turns the kettle off and picks up the shattered glass in the living room. She’ll shower, the hot water streaming down her back will make marks, but she won’t mind. She’ll step closer to the hot trickling water, her rigid muscles loosening, the circles lightening and finally, she will feel something. She’ll stand in the shower and tell herself it’s that thing her mother used to say about the first year. That he’ll be feeling so so sorry all day, so so sorry. He’ll come home early with fresh flowers that the young blue-braces girl at the store picked out for him and be so so sorry. The girl tells herself she’ll forgive him easily, she won’t even make him push it. She’ll take his flowers, kiss him deeply and their legs will end up tangled together on the living room floor. Then when the sun rises, she tells herself, when the sun rises she’ll be the one walking out making the house shake.

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