In a cold room, against the backdrop of flailing nature and brightness of temptation, they sat in convulsions. Each presented portfolios of filed atrocities. There can’t be interference when letters won’t be read in fear of going blind. Each competed for the right to be released from the lineup of familial connectors, that serve as elastic bands when the pain is tested for more endurance. Each confronted the other one, without facing the brutality of truths that labels guilty with innocence of plight. Each made good with unfiled doctrines that have been peeled away to reveal clean slates, that will never be plastered with evidence of meetings in the freeze of relations.
Each decided to keep lines open, except for the one who was warm all along.