STORM BREWING
Nobody knew about the storm brewing that day.
The petite kitchen being enveloped by the darkness and cold
in the hearts of the two that stood facing each other.
A likeness in face but a difference in voice.
Her expression a pallete of mixed emotions.
Confusion. Sureness.
A cool front and a warm front clashing.
Me and the woman.
She threatened to unleash a typhoon.
Her anger brewing like the storm outside.
My hands balled into fists prepared for
the hard hitting rain of hatred she would spew.
First,
a drizzle.
Then the sparks flew from her eyes.
Her hand struck out like lightning crashing into my being.
Crack!
One time.
Crack!
Two times.
My feet, once planted into the ground,
uprooted And I was flung about onto
The ugly
Brown
Tiles.
All the while, the only thing I heard
Were her thunderous shouts
As I remained crouched on the floor
trying to focus
On the silent hum
Of the refrigerator.
