THE QUARREL
They sat on the next seat; outside the mall, in the late autumn sunshine. He was ruddy of face, and angry looking, and she as pale an wan as one newly dead. I could sense the tension between them oh so clearly. It was writ large on their faces; in the rigidity of bodies wrapped as tightly about their anger a mummy’s windings. They spoke words to each; uttered words that I could not hear. But t heir words pierced the still air like sharp stones hurled in a riot; words designed by anger to wound... Sign in to see full entry.