She scratched him out and with every drag of the pen she thought of knives and how much pain she felt. The man at the intersection had yelled at her, called her a bitch, because he was afraid. Another set of cuts thin, stinging.
We all wonder about the armor and fortresses built around minds and extended to land and family. She could weep. She knew she was wounded. Eye for eye, it's unsustainable. If every eye were gouged out and every bitch returned in kind...
She went to his house and placed the plate of cookies by the door, rang the bell and ran. She ran from the pain, the misunderstanding, and the death.
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