I listened to you, emotionally detached from your words. My voice the firing gun in the race of your angers expression.
I watched you, emotionally detached from the hyperventilating that accompanied your shallow breathing as the words spewed from your mouth.
I took a deep breathe as you fell to the ground crying and holding your chest. I questioned whether you were having a heart attack, whether I would need to call 911, how much it would cost, emotionally, to continue this screenplay.
You cried out, “Where is your emotion?!”
You are desperate for me to respond in tears, but I do not have time to break, just yet. I cannot answer because you would not understand. It is not an absence of emotion you see. It is the attendance of presence you don’t recognize.
I’ve seen my anger and she scares even me. You don’t want her answer.
I may be screaming inside but responding in calm is a choice.