Puzzle

Despair hangs over the room like a wet towel: heavy and charged with tension. I stare at

my computer screen, the single source of light against a room filled with darkness, and pretend not to notice as you sit in the tan, ragged arm chair next to the couch and turn on the television. My heart beats loudly in my ears, pressure building in my temples. I want you to speak, to acknowledge the toxicity of the atmosphere between us, and to own your part of it, but whether by stubbornness or inattention, you do not speak. Images flash on the flat, high-definition screen – a movie or videogame, perhaps – and your focus is torn away from me. I sigh deeply, hoping to signal my malcontent, but you seem not to notice, and another piece of my love for you is lost.