Do they understand I am standing in the room trying to make sense of what I do not want to see. I am witness to every motion, every word branded into my memory, all of it a blur. Like a movie, a scene rehearsed beyond perfection, so real that their only audience trembles with confusion and fear.
Do I understand the reasons, big and small, behind the raised voices, sudden, spastic movements, reddened faces, hands flying erradically, spit sailing from lips to air. Questions met with inadequate and nonsensical responses. Accusations like tumblers, dangerously thrown in the air.
Do you understand why they continue when there is no winner, only losers filled with hurt. Nothing new happens but new sparks alight, each more inconsequential than the last. There is no point, no moving on.