You look like you just had your wings clipped again and now you won’t even look at me. Let alone talk.
You are shaking now, and I am not sure if it is with anger or fear or both. Still you will not speak and I feel an odd sort of tingling at the back of my head working its way up from just behind my right ear.
“You can’t just let them get to you like this. You have to start fighting back or just ignore them and move on. Stay close to the ground then, you know what I mean.”
“You have no idea Sylvie. Leave me alone, please!”
At least you’ve said something now, even if you still won’t look at me.
“What makes it worse than the last time when Tom and Paul were making fun of your nose? These two are ugly little gnomes anyway. Look how tall and handsome you are next to these little devils. And your nose is not huge, a man’s nose is meant to stick out from his face. Paul has a flat face. Now that’s something you can say to him next time. Is that Paul walking up the driveway?”
“My God, Joe, you are really jumpy! And what on earth is he wearing? Does he think he’s Peter Falk or something?”
“Don’t let him come in the house, Sylvie! Don’t let him!”
“Don’t be silly Joe, he’s probably coming to apologize for whatever it was he said to you that upset you so much.”
“Don’t let him in, please, don’t let him in!
“Boys! Everything is always a matter of life and death with them. Black and white. No grey at all,” I think as I open the front door to Paul and see the gun in his hand.
(c) Ash N. Finn, 2012