The bitter sweet silence fell again, as it always did. Words flittered out into open, once chirping little birds, now violent spectrals of blaring sirens and blasphemous accusations. All peace was suffocated under the storms of hate and ire, all joy blinded by the force of the fury. Their vicious glares melted into laconic gazes, the tummult of sudden emotion was all too well known.
“So,” he sighed, tone still verging upon distasteful, “what now?” That irked her, mind you, what didn’t?
“What do mean?” She hissed, “what else can I say to you? It’s over isn’t it.” That caused a moment of hesitation, a blissful pause.
“Over?” He muttered, at loss for words finally.
“Yes, we’re done.” His mind whirred, uncomprehending. The screw and bolts began to turn, flinging his consciousness into a spiral of confusion and fear. After all the flaring tempers, after all the heartfelt reconcilements; there was nothing left for either of them.
“Y-you don’t mean that,” he spluttered.
“Oh, I do,” she declared, full of pride and vengeance, “what was keeping this marriage alive, dare I ask? The children, the history, the memories? No. What then? I’ll tell you: the love. And now that’s evidently dead, well…” She left the pause in, to help her words sink deep into the limitations of his IQ.
“What about the kids?” He asked finally, all his grievances empty, left for doubt and perplexity, “you weren’t thinking about the kids?”
“The hell I was!” She guffawed, “they’re out the house now! We can barely even call them children. Two eighteen year olds, off to uni and one failure twenty five year old rotting in the front room. Is that enough to save a relationship? Sandra and Matthew will be fine without us. And Richie? He can’t even make eye contact, never mind feel our absence.” She stood, defiant in her anger that was sure to be short lived.
“We’re done!” She finalised, a Goth queen commanding an army of blood thirsty heathens, waving her spear in elation of her conquered enemy. The birds that had lifted up their spirits and sprung from their tongues in appeals of laughter and adoration had died, shrivelled and torn. Their mouths gaping in starvation of the golden light that once surrounded them, their wings torn from the sockets and left limp on the ground, the shining eyes gouged, now placid. As the adrenaline lifted from the scene, the two were left seething yet all the same, blank. There was nothing left in either sight but hatred and longing. Twenty five years of nonchalant loathing was gone. There was no facade anymore, it was shattered and trampled upon the ground. There was only two people that couldn’t stand each other. And a family that had been torn to shreds along with the polaroid pictures on the ground.
Tried something different today.