calm:  calmness was his curse. his life was one of tepid triumphs.  this was the accusation, this is what they had come to in the windless summer park at two in the afternoon.  it unnerved her, she had spent the last few months looking for cracks and chisel points, her attacks more blunt and desperate.  he realized what she was doing, and why, and knew what she wanted was anger, an emotion, a scene, a counter attack, but he was incapable of even pretending.  Even now, standing by the placid lake, when she challenged him to show some kind of movement, steel, to express something other than his equilibrium, he couldn’t.  The accusation did stir him, though, and he felt the slow tide rising of a desire to act quickly, what he wanted then was to reach out and bring her hair close enough to smell, and to give her a movie-style kiss, and he knew she would push him away and then that would be enough to draw him to a fight, and then they would go home that evening and everything would be fine.  after she walked away, to prove to himself that he could, he let sadness trickle down him like rain on windows.  but she was right, she was right, he was even crying calmly.