The unbearable hours

She was staring at her red, swollen finger, hot water running down the plate in her hands. She couldn’t move. Tears wanted to form but she wouldn’t let them. Crying was accepting; and she still hoped.

He saw the steam rising and run to the sink, pulled her burning hands away, bewildered.

‘What the fuck is wrong with you, J?’

She shook her head, evasive, and walked away. Stalled at the door, not knowing where to go, what to do with herself; the words in her head like a broken disk ‘I can’t bear it! I can’t bear it! I can’t bear it!

She squeezed her hands, welcoming the distraction of the throbbing pain. Why was the flesh so easy to endure?

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