Inspired in part by a dream I had a couple nights ago and by David Mitchell’s novel-cum-short story collection “Cloud Atlas” (thanks for the lend, Diane).
The seed line: “It’s like watching a storm unfurl over the horizon.”
There’s something breathlessly beautiful about the way her lips sneer and part to spit words like venom. About the flush on her face as she’s colored, alternately and at once, by rage and embarrassment, shame and defiance. About the tight knit of her eyebrows, punctuating the fury that contorts her normally neutral expression.
Most women veer between two extremes of emotion when they’re angry: Cold and Calculated Monotone Silence (“You’ll pay for this later” type of drama) or Utter Hysterics (usually accompanied by wailing, flailing, emotional purges that one must simply ride out). But she, she is cut from a different cloth, her anger is visible and controlled, but barely, her composure mirroring that of a close-to-overflowing pot whose lid is skittering dangerously on the rim.
And the expression of her eyes. It’s like watching a storm unfurl over the horizon, two steely darts of darkness punctuated by flashes of emotion. A stream of vitriol flows from her mouth but it’s her eyes that are really doing the talking.
(Image: Thirteen Senses / Crystal Sounds ♫ by Patrick Leger)