Sometimes it becomes horribly apparent that we can never truly know another person--nor them, know us. In those flashes of rage and hatred, their true feelings are not only uncovered, but bathe us in truth. His words a thin veil; his expression not hidden quickly enough. Had we been alone, I wonder what might have transpired? And I wonder, did she notice? Was the veil for her sake? He claims to be his own person, but he is much the same. His words not capable of matching the body language--was I alone in seeing? And do I hurt myself by allowing this one back in?
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