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| 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. | |