"Button it! " The command silenced the room.
He didn't shout, but his tone was firm. Enough to stop her midsentence, like a record scratch in her chest. She gazed at him, half-shocked and half-used to it. That statement once more, his go-to when he felt trapped, when sincerity became too loud.
She could feel her response burning the back of her tongue, wanting to jump. But she refused to let it. She folded it and tucked it in, like a letter in a coat pocket that was never supposed to be read.
They claim that silence promotes peace—but whose peace?
He went back to his phone. She sat there motionless, her hands smoothing the buttons on her shirt one by one.
Fixed on the outside.
Unraveling below.
One day, she will refuse to fasten it.
She'll tear every word free.