My face is a mask of peace.
A small smile breaks out.
I am at peace with your decision, your words.
But it is only a mask, as you should know well.
I have a well formed façade that should never fade, a hard shell that should never crack.
But you are the mathematician, you cracked my code.
Today your words shattered everything beneath the surface.
And now my face has fallen, and I am at a loss for words.
Rage glows red behind my eyes, and I, no mattered your calming words and comforting pats, will storm against your thrashing limbs, scream above your ragged breaths.
I am angry, and you have never seen a rage that equates to mine.
If looks could kill, then you’d be dead.
If my fists were strong enough, then you’d be dead.
But they are not, and you are not.
So instead, I resort to sticks and stones, and I break your bones with every passing blow.
And I become confused.
I feel no pain, but I make sure that you do.
And then, it is over, as quickly as it came.
I smile and walk away, and I can feel my mask slip slowly back into place.
With you, never the wiser.