He runs his finger through his hair pinching the end of the last strand over and over. Staring blankly at her hunched over his lap with her hair hanging down to floor like an inverted noose. Hung from guilt.
Everything in his being tells him to throw her out. He hates her. He doesn't understand her. He's confused. He's in tears. The silence isn't the same. It isn't the same as mornings in her kitchen making breakfast or the silence in his bed room in the night.
Everything in his being tells him to pull her in. He loves her. He understands. He knows. He's in tears. He grabs her hand to stand her up. She pushes her head into his chest resisting his finger that's pushing her chin up so he can look at her. He takes a step back, she follows. He takes a step to the side, she follows. He takes a step forward, He leads. My dear, we're, slow dancing in a burning room. - God is Love