Witch

Weilding your little green plastic and metal pipe, I sat down in front of you. "So, this is broken." I said as I extended out my hand, two peices remained of what was once a whole. "Tuan didn't know which side twisted off.. and he accidently broke it. He is sorry." Your face changed, but only slightly, to anger. And angry words dripped down your lips. Resentful slurs, thick like molasses, poured on. Keeping calm, "It's just a pipe." I said. But still, you seethed. As you went on, boiling about your disparted  piece, an ambience occured. There in your heat, you were just as you always were; stressed, bothered, vexed, cursed, and projective. Your mouth moved, but as I watched your twisting face, there was only silence. I was safe in my ambience, proud of my subtle air. You were a witch, thrashing at your heir. And finally, a moment of true silence, when your mouth stopped, my mind quieted, and there was nothing left to say except, "Well... I'm sorry it broke." We sat in the quiet tempered space for a moment longer, the catalyst still in my palm, and reflected quietly. I stood, turned, and retired to my bedroom. Afterall, there was nothing left to say.