Thursday, March 21, 2013

Impulse, Not An Experiment

Her eyes glared in fiery red.  She insisted on empty drawers.  They, however, remained both carefree and ignorant despite being warned several time.  Her patience dried out and she finally belched out, "Barnabas, clear that drawer!"

Of all the others, his name was called.  Displeased as he was, he mouthed grumbles and comments, while reluctantly pulled out a book and a set of papers, and tossed them into the rubbish angrily.  She cooled off to unfortunately catch sight of the book and papers with her name written on them.  The fire churning inside her burst and she exploded without warning.  She picked them up, walked over, read the name and slapped him with a book.

"Pap, pap, ..." before she gave her third shot, the hands shove her away.  The play drew in crowds with cheers.  Her face burnt both in shame and anger.  She had nothing to lose.  She lifted up her hand, ready for her finale, swung her arm and closed her eyes. 
  
She drew in fresh air.  It was stiff as a picture but she was greatly at ease.  Her immediate response were grievingly beyond unethical.  She heaved a sigh of relief; not fighting back were not as stupid as the stupid things she would do.  On impulse.  

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