Noise

"You want me to say what?"
The warning in the brunette's voice sent vibrations through the small, densely furnished room. The danger gathered around them like a quickly coalescing funnel cloud. She stared the blonde woman in the eye with something akin to bloodlust.

"I want you to say that you aren't in love with him." With poison green eyes, she indicated the man completing the triangle. His mouth open with surprise and he shook his head slightly, splayed his hands in silent objection.

Her spine felt cold, separate from her and artifical. she wanted to lunge and savage this insolent cow with her canine teeth, to rip great handfuls of that thin, color-treated hair from the scalp that covered such an evil skull, housing such a warped sense of self-righteousness.

He felt her fury, heard it roar like a distant and doomed freight train, and knew that the seating arrangement was more than fortunate. He did not touch her, but leaned protectively closer, and shot the blonde an incredulous glare.

Her voice was husky with wound: "You nosy, selfish, brazen cunt." And she was gone, the echo of the door's slam almost outlining the great gust of stale stairway air that fluttered a tuft of hair on top of his head. Dust particles spun into the early afternoon sunlight. The air was open season for silence. He cocked the shotgun of his brain with a few powder-keg syllables.

"That was a very stupid noise to make."

He grabbed his belongings and abruptly left, his quick footsteps fading down the stairs, in pursuit.



© Sara Gaddis 2010