Image by Christine Renney
We yell until each of us is hollow. She is sobbing. The sound hoarse and guttural. She is empty and has no more words and I no longer have to fend against them.
She shivers and I touch her. She is cold and I fetch a sweater from the bedroom. With a handful of kitchen towel she mops at her face, at the snot and tears.
The sweater is too big and sitting she pulls at herself from inside. I place my hands on her shoulders and press down gently, an effort to still her.
I feel remorse, it fills the hollow inside, I am full to brimming with it when she turns, ready for regret.
hijacked amygdala 
‘War some of the time’ as a fine writer once said. Sad, harrowing and shatteringly real in equal measure, this piece really tugs at the heart strings, Mark.
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Oh wow! Thank you Chris.
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I’m tempted to say she’ll think twice about calling round to borrow sugar again but flippancy isn’t a good attribute so please ignore mine.
A powerful snap shot of real life well written.
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Ha! Thanks Phil.
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Well done to think of sotnehimg like that
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Reblogged this on The Brokedown Pamphlet and commented:
Christine and I have a new post on Hijacked Amygdala.
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a short, sharp view of love’s marred landscape. powerful image, Christine!
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Thank you Cat.
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Quite brilliant writing Mark…. very refreshing to read the way you’ve written this! 🙂
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I need a new phone so bad! I would love to be able to look up recipes when I’m at the fa7rer̵m;s market and faced with some fabulous veg I’ve never heard of and don’t know how to use – that’s how I would use this phone if I’m lucky enough to win.
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