A window opens her view to the world, ushering in the light that hurts her eyes and the breeze that chills her skin.
She used to think it was possible to separate her idea of someone from their actions.
Her head jerks slightly as a sip of coffee collides hot liquid with her unprepared tongue.
She no longer can think that it is possible to separate actions from someone’s true identity. Humans exist through interaction with each other and the material world.
Her teeth sink into the quarter inch of cream cheese slathered on her bagel like a leg into quicksand.
She no longer can love someone hoping there is good inside. She will never again tough out being mistreated hoping the person hurting them will change. Actions determine alone who a person is and in them manifest who they want to be.
If someone wants to be good, kind, and loving, why would they act otherwise?
If soemone acts aggressively and violently, isn’t that who they are in reality and who they want to be?
The skin of her thumb is uncomfortable with the pressure it takes to pierce the peel of the orange in her hand.
There’s no good excuse for mistreating people. She wants everyone to hold themselves accountable. It’s too easy for humans to lie to themselves.
Every moment gives us a choice. And once we choose, the universe is quick in bringing us the inevitable consequences of those actions.
On the sill her mug rests, mixing the scent of coffee with grass and gasoline fumes outdoors. The draw string of the broken blinds dangles like an uncertain idea dangles in the mind.